Thank you to my ex for breaking my heart – an open letter

I wrote this over a year ago to my ex. He was one of the reasons I left Bournemouth. Not to get away from him but because I realised I wanted more. I've toyed with the idea of publishing it ever since. For months I left this blog completely empty because I didn't think anyone would want to see my boring thoughts. Now I'm starting to write on it and I think I'm ready to share this as well. 

To my ex,

When I met you I wasn’t looking for romance. Fresh from a messy breakup with a selfish gambling addict I liked you because you made me laugh and smile. You made me feel safe and you treated me with kindness.

I was naïve - to begin with it was agreed we weren’t super serious. Over the next five months I came to think that all the weekends together, the shopping trips, the nice meals out, the mini break we booked and the hours spent whispering our secrets to each other until the sun came up counted for something.

The crunch came when I said we should make it Facebook official. My confidence built over the summer with my backpacking trip in Cambodia and the compliments you gave me and I felt I deserved to be your girlfriend. Nothing could have prepared me for the confession that came next – you’d been sleeping with other people. You gave me the bare details but that was enough for me to work out the sordid truth of who you’d slept with. And that was the real knife in my back. You’d gone on a night out with me and after I’d left slept with a girl we’d been drinking with. You’d lied about where you were when I asked and the next day you drove straight from her to me, acting like everything was normal and showering me with affection.

You were the first toxic boyfriend I cut straight out of my life. All that new found confidence made me believe I didn’t have to try and persuade you to love me, I didn’t have to keep a space in my life for you or desperately try to salvage something so those months weren’t wasted. When I was crying you kept telling me I was your best friend, that you couldn't imagine being without me. You were my best friend too, I trusted you always. 

I set off to Bestival with a backpack and broken heart. In the crowd I met a boy from Newcastle and I kissed him because I wanted to feel better, I wanted to feel pretty and less empty. No one knew the complete details of our break up because I was too ashamed to tell them, I spilled out all of my darkest feelings to that boy in the middle of the night sat on the grass shivering between acts. I told him how hurt and stupid I felt, that deep down I knew our relationship was jamming a round peg into a square hole but I didn’t want to accept it.

Three weeks later that Geordie boy persuaded me, on a complete whim, to get on a train and travel 260 miles to the north, to Manchester, to go to Warehouse Project. I was terrified but my friends cheered me on – told me to live a little more and worry a little less. I fell in love that night. Not with the Geordie but with the city. With the architecture, the people, the music.

Back home I knew I had to go. I worked hard on job applications and poured an obscene amount of money into flights and trains. In February 2017  I got offered a job in Manchester and on the first of April 2017 I packed everything I owned in a van and drove it (myself!!) to my new flat in the city. The only person I knew was my cousin and his family.

Manchester was everything I hoped for and more. Everything they say is true – the people are so friendly, the food is amazing and there’s a ridiculous amount of things to see and do. I found the trams and the accents novel and every weekend was another exciting opportunity to see something new.

I’m not going to lie and say it’s been completely easy, after the Arena attack I was so lonely. There was no one to hug me – the closest I got was a man looking at me with awkward sympathy while I sobbed in the street in the next day. No one lay next to me at night when I couldn’t sleep because I was running over everything at work wondering what mistakes I’d made so far. No one noticed that I lived solely on Krispy Kreme donuts and Chinese takeaway for nearly two weeks. 

But I’m so grateful still that I’m here, living my dream in a city where barely anyone knows my name. The past year taught me that I am more resilient, resourceful and capable that I could have ever imagined. I have friends that make every day feel sunnier and love me just the way I am. And I am so much more fortunate than others like those poor families who set off for a night of joy and came home with their lives changed forever.

Thank you for breaking my heart, thank you for letting me down – my life is much richer and fuller now I’m not held back by someone like you. You would never have enjoyed the adventures or the bustle, the different style and attitude of a new place. You would have been frustrated by my spending and my new clothes, my weekends away and my late night calls to friends. Without you I get to live the life I wanted and through it I rediscovered me. I got a second chance and not many people can truly say that.

 Thank you.