He Mocked My Tears, My Therapy, My Silence. Now He Wants to “Work Things Out.” I Said Yes—While I Filed the Paperwork.

I thought love meant patience. So I stayed—through the eye-rolls, the gaslighting, the mockery of my therapy. For five years, I made excuses for Dalen’s coldness.

Then one night, he told my friends, “She’s only with me because no one else would want her.” I didn’t cry—I planned my exit. While he talked about “fresh starts,” I met with a lawyer and opened my own account.

Then I found a note in his drawer: “I don’t love her. I haven’t in a long time.” It was for someone named Erin.

Days later, Erin messaged me. She didn’t know about me. We met, compared stories. She’d even been to our cabin. My cabin. I told her I’d already filed for separation.

The next morning, I left Dalen a note: “You don’t have to choose. I already did.” Then I walked away.

I moved in with my sister, got a cat, and started over. Erin later wrote to say Dalen tried to come back. She said no. She started therapy too—because I had.

Now I live in peace. I date with purpose. When someone asks why I left, I say, “Because I finally listened to myself.”

Love isn’t about endurance.
It’s about respect.
And healing isn’t weakness—it’s power.