The Moment the Truth Was Finally Spoken

How do you say I’m sorry and end a relationship that has helped you grow as a person?

After 21 years, I realised that what we created had reached its limit. Not because love was gone, but because what was created became bigger than the relationship itself.

I still love my partner deeply — so deeply that ending it filled me with tremendous guilt. But it had to be done, because it no longer suited either of us as human beings: our growth, our potential, and the truth that was finally wanting to come out.

When I met Gerry, I was broken, distraught, and unsure. I was tired — physically, psychologically, and emotionally. I was not whole; I was millions of pieces.

To preserve love, to ensure I could finally have someone in my life, I worked hard to sustain the relationship, to the point where it became unsustainable. I gave up my voice. I became a “yes” person to please another, trying to be the perfect someone. I provided. I worked harder. I took on more responsibility, a bigger job, higher pay, and longer hours — all to sustain and satisfy someone I wanted to feel so comfortable that he would never want to leave me.

I bought a house I never wanted. I carried more responsibility than I should have. I gave without expecting anything in return. But none of this came from love — it came from fear. Fear of losing someone. And by doing so, I lost myself in the myth of it, mistaking insecurity for love.

As a result, our relationship became stagnant. He found comfort at home and became willing to have minimal interaction with the outside world. I was holding him out of life instead of holding him in love. It hit me hard when I finally paused and looked at what I had created — something built on a small fear at the beginning, and then sustained by what I believed love was meant to be.

We are both fortunate. We have no children and no responsibilities tying us together — except our own minds. Still, naming this truth and saying it out loud was not easy. It was not easy to admit my mistakes, nor to tell Gerry.

The past 22 years were not wasted. We shared a deep sense of love and loyalty. My family loved him; my nephews and nieces adored him. Finding the courage to tell them about our separation was one of the hardest things. Yet my family reached out to him and let him know that he will always be part of us.

Ironically, this separation is based on love, not fear — a true love that sets us free while still allowing us to love each other.

In the short time since I stepped away from my previous role and put everything I had worked so hard to create on pause, I realised that I had often made decisions based on fear rather than truth. Now, I am cleaning up the mess I created. This second chance feels like a blessing, even though it is challenging.

These are the words I told Gerry:
I know this is going to be hard for both of us, but I truly believe that one day, when we look back, we will realise what a blessing this was. We were both given a second chance to return to ourselves and truly be who we are.

This is not a goodbye.
This is finally coming home to ourselves.