How I Finally Broke the Cycle of Betrayal
Let’s talk about something that gets people so hurt, even though it sounds like healing:
Closure.
Most people believe closure happens when you finally get to talk to the person you’re leaving.
Like that conversation will give you peace, help you move on, or make it all make sense.
But here’s what usually happens instead:
You miss them.
You’re still confused.
You tell yourself, “I just need to talk things through.”
So you meet.
You dress up—maybe without meaning to.
You wear the perfume they once said they loved.
You go in hoping it’s just a conversation.
But the chemistry is still there.
So is the pain.
And before you know it, you’re back in bed, back in the cycle, back in the relationship that you already knew wasn’t working.
Closure conversations often revive the very thing you’re trying to walk away from.
Not because it’s love.
But because dependency kicks in.
Because something inside you still thinks they might say the magic words,
Do the thing they never did,
Make it all easier.
But no matter what they say—
You’ll still have to sit with yourself after.
You’ll still have to grieve what happened.
You’ll still have to face how far you drifted from yourself just to stay connected.
You’ll still have to reconnect with the parts of you that you abandoned in the name of “love.”
That’s the real closure.
And it has nothing to do with them.
You know what I’ve seen again and again?
People stay in relationships they know are hurting them.
Not because they’re weak.
Not because they don’t know better.
But because they keep hoping that maybe this time, it’ll be different.
Maybe this time the conversation will be real.
Maybe the other person has finally changed.
But dependency is louder than logic.
And it’s easy to confuse codependency with love.
Because you do love them.
But what keeps you there is not just love.
It’s the high you get from even a moment of closeness.
The relief of being wanted again, even if just for a night.
The ache you’ll do anything to stop—even if it means betraying yourself all over again.
You start walking on eggshells.
You silence yourself.
You ignore the part of you that’s screaming, “This is not okay.”
And the hurts that never get a real, loving repair?
They don’t go away.
They become landmines.
They sit there quietly until they explode—usually at the worst moment—and everyone acts surprised.
I know because I’ve been there.
I stayed far too long in something that wasn’t working.
I told myself it was love.
But it wasn’t.
It was fear.
It was habit.
It was the kind of longing that keeps you stuck in fantasy instead of truth.
And for years, nothing changed—because I didn’t change.
Neither did they.
There was no real closure because I kept outsourcing it.
Kept hoping they’d help me heal from what I never should’ve endured in the first place.
So let me say this clearly:
You can love someone and still leave.
You can care about them and still choose yourself.
You can walk away—not because you don’t love them, but because you finally remembered how to love you.
Love can stay.
But relationships?
Relationships require agreements.
And those agreements can’t only survive under silence, sacrifice, or duress.
If you can’t be your full self in a relationship—
If being true to you breaks it—
Then that’s not a relationship.
It’s a situation that’s teaching you how far you’ll go to be loved…
Even if you’re the one disappearing.
You deserve more.
You deserve to know what real closure feels like.
And it begins the moment you stop abandoning yourself.
✨ JOURNAL THIS (If You’re Ready):
- Where did I leave myself in this relationship?
- What did I keep hoping they’d give me that I’ve never given to myself?
- What would I say to the version of me that stayed—even when it hurt?
- What promise can I make to the version of me that’s finally ready to walk away?
Write it. Don’t censor it. Let your truth speak.
And if you’re ready to stop the loop for good…
Won this beanie fair and square in a competition 🏆 on my Key Note Speaking Program