In February 2023, I met a guy. (my story of attachment)
At first, there was no romantic spark between us. He lived in a different city, away from home, preparing for an important exam. I was in another city myself. We simply became friends. And not just ordinary friends — we connected deeply. We talked all day and night, shared the smallest details of our lives, and soon, that friendship turned into a romantic relationship.
In the beginning, the bond was beautiful. As friends, our connection was refreshing, exciting, and comforting. But the moment it turned into a relationship, things started changing.
Insecurities began to grow.
He knew everything about my past — my traumas, my pain, my fears. I had told him everything when we were just friends. At that time, he showed sympathy, he listened. But as we got deeper into the relationship, that sympathy faded and was replaced with jealousy — especially related to my past relationships. He became irritable, abusive, and emotionally unpredictable.
It was extremely hard for me to deal with this change. I had grown up in a toxic environment, and now it felt like and was being dragged back into something similar. Tried distancing myself, but I couldn’t. I had too much sympathy for him — but he lived alone in a depressing city, and I didn’t have the heart to leave him like that.
Slowly, he began to change again. His exam got over, and he returned to his home. By then, I had developed a deep emotional attachment. I couldn’t imagine letting him go. But after returning home, he started becoming rude. He picked fights over small things. He began to distance himself from me — reducing contact, becoming colder with each passing day.
My Story of Attachment
And I… I was devastated.
Cried every day. I barely ate, barely slept. Yet I tried to keep working, studying for my exams with tears running down my face. Still, I pleaded with him to stay. Begged for his attention. I just wanted things to be like before — the long voice calls, the comfort, the love, the feeling that I finally had someone who saw the real me and didn’t judge me.
But that version of him was gone.
He became toxic. He started gaslighting me. Even when he talked to another girl and I cried out of insecurity, he didn’t care. He only thought about himself. Still, I couldn’t leave. Maybe it was my past — the trauma, the abandonment, the need to feel wanted — that made me stay even when everything was breaking me.
My Story of Attachment
I knew he wanted to move on.
But I didn’t.
Because I believed I wouldn’t find this same kind of comfort again. I had shown him the ugliest parts of me. I was completely vulnerable with him — something I never allow myself to be. And in a world that judges quickly, he knew everything and still stayed — at least in the beginning.
I even switched off my phone for two days once, thinking maybe distance would help. But I went back to him. Again. And again. – (My Story of Attachment)
How to Destroy the Cord of Attachment — (My Story of Attachment)
That’s when I realized something important: cutting the cord doesn’t work.
Whenever I tried to let go, I felt okay for a day or two. But then, all the pain, attachment, and longing would return. I’d go right back to the same loop. I wasn’t just sad — I was addicted. Addicted to the idea of what we were. Of what we could’ve been.
But that addiction wasn’t about him.
It was about me.
The real problem wasn’t the cord between us — it was the wound inside me that made that cord so strong. I had to go to the root of my attachment. Why did I need someone like him so badly? Why was I scared to be alone?
I realized the answer:
I was never loved properly.
Not in childhood. Not in past relationships. I had always craved love, attention, care — and since the moment someone gave me that, even in a toxic form, I couldn’t let go.
And I figured all this out by myself — after falling apart completely.
While I was with him, I couldn’t see clearly. It felt like I was blind — not physically, but emotionally. My logic, my instincts, everything was silent in front of my feelings for him. I ignored red flags, made excuses for his behavior, and convinced myself that this pain was temporary — that the love I felt was enough to heal both of us.
But somewhere deep inside, a small voice had always been whispering the truth.
I just wasn’t ready to listen to it then.
So, what does healing look like?
It’s not pretty. It’s not a straight line. And it doesn’t happen overnight.
To truly destroy that emotional cord, you first need to heal the wound that created it. You have to dig deep and ask yourself:
What part of me is still bleeding?
Is it from your childhood? A parent who ignored you? A teacher who made you feel small? An old relationship that shattered your self-worth?
Look it in the eye. Sit with that pain.
And pull that wound out from your chest like a cord, not just cut it. Cutting doesn’t work. It grows back. But when you pull it out from the root, imagine burning it — for good. Then seal the space it left behind with something precious. Use whatever feels safe, beautiful, and strong to you.
Journaling Will Save You
Write out every single emotion. Don’t censor it. Don’t pretty it up. Let the pages hold your heartbreak, your anger, your sadness, your longing. All of it.
And once you’ve said everything you need to say —
burn that paper.
Let it go. Let it leave your body.
Because healing isn’t about pretending it didn’t happen.
It’s about choosing yourself again and again, no matter how many times you’ve been abandoned by others.
You’re Not Alone in This
Healing is a long, painful, and sometimes very ugly journey. But you are not crazy. You are not weak. not overreacting.
You are wounded.
And wounds need care — not shame.
I’ve come an awfully long way since leaving that abusive relationship. I’m still learning, still healing, still growing. Some days it’s exhausting. Some days it’s beautiful. But most importantly, it’s mine. And I’m not haunted by my past anymore.
Final Truth:
Love is not supposed to feel like survival.
Love is not supposed to hurt this much.
Healing doesn’t mean forgetting.
It means growing beyond what broke you.
And you deserve to grow free.