Date Published: March 30, 2025
This morning, I woke up feeling uneasy. Not the usual kind of anxiety, not sadness exactly—more like something was stuck in my chest. Something unresolved, murky, and uncomfortable.
It had to do with Mark.
I’ve been wrestling with some disturbing thoughts—feelings and suspicions that unsettled me deeply. My intuition has been whispering uncomfortable truths I’ve brushed aside for months, maybe years. I have no concrete proof, only a persistent, troubling feeling.
He always preferred porn featuring extremely petite women—small-breasted, very young-looking. Legal, yes, but disturbingly childlike. I used to tell myself it was just a preference, that I was reading too much into it. But lately, I can’t help but wonder if I was gaslighting myself to preserve an illusion of safety.
Mark was secretive. He used VPNs and encryption tools when he lived alone and avoided setting up his desktop computer at our shared home, perhaps because privacy would be harder there. Before I even knew about his porn use, he was already hiding. After I discovered it, I had his phone examined by a forensics company. They didn’t find anything illegal, but they did find an encrypted chat app—one that had gained notoriety for misuse. Mark claimed it was from before we met, re-downloaded innocently, but the timeline and his explanations never fully made sense to me.
And here’s the thing—I don’t know exactly what’s true. Everything could be coincidental, innocent even. But I can’t ignore how unsafe I felt with him—not emotionally, spiritually, or psychologically.
The Real Pain Isn’t About What He Did.
It’s about what he made me question about myself.
How did I not see it?
How did I let him in?
What does it say about me that I loved someone who made me feel so unsafe beneath the surface?
But that’s not even the worst of it.
The worst part is the fear I’ve carried all day:
What if I can never trust anyone again?
What if I meet someone new, the mask looks good, and I let them in, only to experience this pain again?
What if this experience has shattered something inside me so deeply that I won’t let another person get close—not because they’re unsafe, but because I can’t take the risk?
But Then I Remembered Something.
I recently sold a bunch of vintage stamps to a woman. She had a beautiful heart—I could tell within minutes.
My tenant Luna in Chatsworth? A kind, good, genuine person.
And me? I’m a good person.
So if I exist—if Luna and that woman exist—good people exist.
That truth pulled me back from the spiral.
I’m not broken.
I’m bruised.
And bruises heal.
Trust After Betrayal Isn’t a Light Switch—It’s a Slow Rebuild.
What happened with Mark wasn’t just a painful breakup. It was an earthquake to my foundation.
It taught me that people can lie with kindness in their eyes.
It taught me that not everyone is safe just because they seem stable.
And it taught me—most importantly—that my gut is not irrational.
My gut was talking.
It was trying to protect me.
Now I know better. Now I listen.
What I Know for Sure
I know that I will not be getting back together with Mark—no matter what is or isn’t true.
But I also know that I still crave real connection, and that scares me.
I want to trust again.
I want to love again.
But right now, the idea of letting someone all the way in feels too dangerous.
And that’s okay. I’m not rushing it.
Because here’s the most beautiful truth I’ve remembered today:
Trust doesn’t start with other people. It starts with me.
If I can trust myself to speak up when something feels off…
If I can trust myself to say no when a story doesn’t make sense…
If I can trust my gut, my intuition, my inner compass…
Then I will know who’s safe and who’s not.
And eventually, when the right person comes along—someone honest, vulnerable, and emotionally available—I’ll be ready.
Until Then
I’ll keep living boldly.
I’ll keep following my instincts.
I’ll keep walking forward—not because I’m running from the past, but because I’m building a life where I feel safe, seen, and free.
I’m not broken.I’m becoming unbreakable.
