The Lies I Told to Keep the Love I Lost

I don't really know how to start this post.

I am going to explain my journey with addiction and where I was mentally during active addiction. I really need to emphasize that I do not mean to excuse any of my actions by sharing my side of the story. During my active addiction, I was a dishonest, hurtful, and deeply insecure person, and my actions reflected that. My remorse does not negate the fact that I caused genuine pain and heartache to people that could've never done anything to warrant such treatment.

The Beginning

From the ages of 18 to 21, I was in an abusive relationship. I think it'd be better for myself to not get into the details of the abuse on a public platform, but I will give context: the first time I tried substances beyond smoking a little weed in high school was when my ex intimidated me into trying them. I thought that because I was scared, the high wouldn't feel good and I wouldn't have to worry. It was, unfortunately, the best feeling I've ever felt.

Honestly, the addiction didn't fully sink its claws in at that point, because she refused to share unless I acted uncomfortable with her using in the apartment. Then she would force me to.

In September of 2024, I did two major things. I kicked my abusive ex out, and I fell into full-blown addiction when left entirely alone. She isolated me from my friends for years, and by the time she was gone, they had moved on from me. I'm not bitter; I understand why, and I don't blame them. I was angry at the world in the moment, though, and I just started using harder.

The Love of My Young Life

In December of 2024, I met and fell in love with who I consider to be the love of my young life. She was the exact opposite of my ex. She had her life together, she's a weapon in school; she's beautiful beyond reason, and she loved me with a tenderness that I could only describe as being wrapped in the warmth of the last day of summer.

I was immediately taken by her, and I was stupid. I didn't take the time to heal from a very recent traumatic relationship and breakup, and I screwed both of us over because I couldn't admit yet that I needed help.

For a while, we were so good. I loved her friends. I loved her family. They, seemingly, felt the same about me. She brought out a confidence in me that substances never did, and I worshipped her in turn. Not in an unhealthy way—despite how I'm making it sound I just felt such an admiration and reverence for her that I couldn't fathom how she had chosen me.

The Seed of Ruin

I never told her I struggled with drugs. I cut back on my use enough for her not to notice, but I felt guilt immediately for lying to her. Yet I did nothing. I recognize now that this was the seed that would lead to the relationship's ruin, but at the time it was an awareness I lacked severely.

Even beyond starting the relationship with dishonesty, I couldn't outrun the trauma forever. The nightmares started. I stopped sleeping. I wouldn't talk about it. I'd explode. I'd ramp up my use. I'd fall into long-lasting episodes due to how my drug use interacted with my already existing mental health conditions.

What I will say in absolute confidence is that I never screamed at her or raised a hand to her. I had moments that I absolutely regret and believe I could've handled so much better with emotional regulation. I would explode in a "sad" way. I don't mean to diminish what I did. It was definitely emotionally manipulative at points. I lacked the self-awareness to realize how my outbursts were affecting her, and I should've been a significantly better man for her. She deserved a partner who could healthily handle conflict.

Everything Collapsed

Everything collapsed around October of 2025. I ruined my finances supporting my drug use. She noticed, and I told a lie in a major way about what happened I even said I was in good financial standing. That wasn't true. She figured out I lied, she forgave me, and as much as I intended on being honest, addiction won.

I lied again and again. My mental health deteriorated the longer I abused substances, and the longer I went without being proactive in my therapy. I got into a habit of lying to her about any perceived conflict that arose, and we broke up in February of this year because I couldn't stop.

I wish that was the end of the story, but it wasn't. We continued to be friends because we wanted to work eventually. She wanted me to grow as a person, to be healthy on my own, so that I wouldn't feel the need to lie to avoid being left. She still had no idea that I was lying to cover an active addiction. I only told her the partial truth: that I had begun lying more and more because I had not relearned how to have conflict in a healthy way following severe abuse.

The Final Break

We didn't do the breakup most cleanly. For a while, we were kind of together but without a label. We stopped acting like a couple a few months in, but words exchanged on both sides showed that we kept the mutual interest of coming back to each other.

I chose addiction over her, and just over a month ago, I did it for what would be the last time. She finally got the words out of me that I'm an addict. She said she would've loved me still if I had just said that. She could've loved an addict who tried to be better. She can't love someone who doesn't seem to try. I understand. We haven't spoken since the seventh of August.

She can't trust a single word I say, and betrayal hurts. She watched me fail over and over again, promise to do better, and keep doing the behaviors that I knew hurt her beyond belief. I hold no resentment toward her. I know what I did to make her choose to leave my life. She did what she had to. I wish her the very best.

Grief and Isolation

I know we're no contact now. That door has closed. I'm grieving the life I know I could've given her. I'm grieving the friends that we had in common. I'm grieving her nieces and nephews I'll never see again. I grieve her "annoying" me. I grieve the relationship I had with her, when our biggest problems were that I was a bit meek in conflicts.

I have been clean for one month now. I've been much more active in my mental health recovery, and I'm making strides in understanding who I am and why I am. I've been going to NA as often as I am able. I have a job that I genuinely love and pays okay. I started up school again, and I already feel like an entirely different person. I'm not, and I know I have a long journey ahead, but I feel hope for my future.

My issue now isn't that I want to make amends with the loved ones I hurt, because I'm not ready yet. I still want to be forgiven, and an apology given with the expectation of forgiveness isn't genuine.

I've ended up isolating myself this time. She didn't do anything wrong, and our mutual friends were hers first, so she got custody, for lack of a better word. My family is fine, but there's a reason I left home at 18 we're not necessarily "friendly" as much as civil. I have my hobbies, and I do have coworkers, but I don't have friends. Not a single one.

The Question I Can't Answer

I'm starting to want to use again because the isolation is severely hurting me. At the same time though, the last time I caused extreme pain on someone was one month ago. I don't want to lie about who I am, but I also don't know very many people who'd want a friendship with someone who is known to lie and hide things, and I feel as if it's unethical. Why should I get to go out and have a good time, smile, be around friends, when I was such an awful person to people I never wanted to lose? If I were a bystander I'd say "fuck that guy, he should be alone forever." So why do I deserve any more grace than I'd give in turn?

I know I need to make friends or find community. I know that this is step one of a relapse: the "I just want to feel better, this makes it better immediately." I know the answer is to just find my people. But who am I to get better now after failing for so long to even actually try?

I'm hopeful but worried. Thank you for reading.