Despising the One You Once Loved

How do you go from loving someone so deeply to despising the very thought of them? How does a person who once felt like your entire world suddenly become the shadow of your biggest regret?

I keep asking myself these questions, over and over again. Because once upon a time, I thought I had found my person. I was so infatuated that I forgot everything else—my dreams, my priorities, even myself. I believed he was the one, the person I would spend my life with. We shared traumas, traded secrets, carried each other’s wounds. I thought we understood each other. I thought I had found my best friend and my soulmate in the same person.

But was it ever real? Or was it just me loving him enough for both of us?

I did everything to make it work. I gave him all the love he claimed no one else ever gave. I forgot about myself and focused on making him better, because in my mind, if I helped him rise, then naturally we would rise together. I sacrificed, again and again, envisioning a future that only I believed in. Was I blind, or just desperate for love?

We were on and off, and every time we broke apart, I was always the one crawling back. He never chased me, never reached out. He didn’t need to—because he knew I would come back. He knew I was a fool for him. And yes, I was. I let myself be that fool more times than I can even count.

And then, when things finally started working out for him, when he no longer needed me to carry him, something shifted. He didn’t care about my feelings anymore. He didn’t need my support, my mothering, my sacrifices. Suddenly, the love I had poured into him became useless. And that’s when I realized—I was never his partner, I was his crutch.

So I took the little self-respect I had left and I left. But even leaving doesn’t erase the bitterness. Because now I see the truth—I neglected myself. I spent years pouring everything I had into someone who was never pouring back into me. I invested so much love, time, and energy into building him up, while tearing myself down in the process.

And the cruelest part? He’s probably out there enjoying the life I helped him build. The confidence I nurtured, the stability I sacrificed for, the pieces of myself I gave away—he gets to keep all that. And me? I’m left picking up the broken pieces of who I used to be.

I regret it. I regret not loving myself enough. I regret putting him first every time, even when it destroyed me. I regret that I thought his healing was more important than my own. And now, I’m stuck with the consequences—loneliness, self-hate, and the heavy question of how I could ever love someone more than I loved myself.

How do I forgive myself for that? How do I look in the mirror and not see the fool I became? How do I stop hating him and start healing me?

Because yes, I despise him for what he did, for how he used me, for how easily he discarded me when he no longer needed me. But at the same time, I know I needed this wake-up call. I needed to see how far I was willing to betray myself in the name of love. And maybe, just maybe, the lesson here is brutal but necessary: never love someone else more than you love yourself.

So where do I go from here? I don’t know yet. But I know one thing—I will never be that fool again.