about

Theafterhim started in the after.

After the four years. After the lies. After the I'm-sick-but-actually-out-all-night nights. After the night I sat on the bathroom floor and realized I'd been begging someone to love me back who was never going to.

I gave him everything. I went to see him after every shift, late, tired, just to be near him. I forgave him the first time even though I knew. I forgave because love made me stupid and that's not a flaw, that's just what loving with your whole chest looks like when the other person can't hold it.

The day I left him I wasn't healed. I was just done.

What helped me wasn't a course. It wasn't a coach. It wasn't a six-figure manifestation girlie. It was small things. Going for a walk. Working out until I was tired enough to sleep. Calling my family. Not opening his profile. Writing things down so they stopped living in my head.

I made what I wished I'd had on the worst nights.

A voice that said the right thing on the day it had to be said. A friend in a PDF. Three quiet guides for the three stages — surviving, rebuilding, and making sure the next one isn't him in a different shirt.

I stay anonymous because this isn't about me. It's about you. If you're reading this you already know the rest of the story. I'm glad you found me. Take your time.