A personal journey of letting go and finding peace after heartbreak.
Forgetting someone you truly loved is one of the hardest things to go through. Even when you know the relationship is over, your heart can still cling to the version of them you created – the one you believed in, hoped for, or built your future around.
I struggled for years to let go of my ex. What made it so difficult was the story I told myself about who he was and what we meant to each other. I had to let go of the meaning I gave him – the sense of identity I felt around him, and the future I had imagined with him by my side.
In this post, I walk you through the story of how I finally let go of the man I once believed was my soulmate. I’ll break down the emotional attachment, the self-fulfilling narrative that kept me stuck, and the turning point that allowed me to move on – followed by a step-by-step guide you can use on your own journey.
If you’ve ever struggled to forget someone who felt significant, I hope this story encourages you to begin your own journey and finally let go.
Your why makes you attached, and your self-fulfilling narrative keeps you attached.
Removing the self-fulfilling narrative is what helps you start to move on.
Reframing your why allows you to move on.
Personal Experience
If you’ve read Avoid Getting Played or listened to my story, you already know how deeply I loved my ex, Mr Obvious. But for those who haven’t, here’s a quick recap.
I met him while living temporarily in Australia, and from the very beginning, our connection felt effortless. We quickly formed a bond that filled my soul in a way I hadn’t experienced before. Our friendship and chemistry complemented each other perfectly. It felt natural and easy.
Outside that bubble, it was no secret that Mr Obvious cheated in our relationship. After our time together and my return to England, I discovered I had been the side chick all along. The truth of it broke me, yet I still couldn’t let him go.
Understanding My Attachment (My Why)
You might be wondering: how could someone who kept me as a side chick for my entire relationship still hold such a dear place in my heart? Logically, he should have been someone I ran from, yet something kept pulling me towards him. To understand that side of me, I have to take you back to when I was twelve.
I had recently moved to England – a confident, outspoken, bubbly girl full of personality. But the cultural shift hit me hard. I struggled to fit in, and slowly, I started to lose myself. Around certain people, I became quiet and reserved, a shell of the person I once was. I internalised the idea that I wasn’t good enough and had nothing interesting to offer.
I lived like that for years… until I met Mr Obvious. With him, everything was just different. I felt like myself again. I remember on our first date, we sat for hours, just talking and laughing. I can’t even recall what we spoke of, but the conversation flowed naturally – he was easy to talk to, the kind of person who had a come as you are policy. I could be goofy or weird and he would just laugh it off. Even some of the things I saw as flaws, he simply saw as little quirks of mine.
For the first time in years, I was coming out of my shell. I didn’t have to think about who I was or whether I was interesting enough. In those moments, I could just be me and it was enough. I found myself rediscovering the little girl in me who just wanted to laugh, be silly, be cheeky and be as happy as she could be. He brought that free-spirited Chiko back to life.
The more time we spent together, the more attached I became. And soon enough, Mr Obvious had become a symbol of my true self. I began to see him as someone I couldn’t afford to lose, because losing him felt like losing everything I had rediscovered about myself.
What I didn’t realise at the time was just how much that belief would shape all that followed.
My Self-Fulfilling Narrative
After we broke up, the truth of our relationship left me questioning everything. Was it real? Did he care? The confusion made me feel like I was going crazy. It sent my mind into overdrive searching for anything that confirmed it had been real.
I thought of how we had continued talking, sending each other memes, joking and laughing as though nothing had changed. I was more than 10,000 miles away, so why was he still reaching out and even suggesting we travel together?
I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was right about us, and the way he acted only made it harder to think otherwise. He remembered the exact date I left Australia, calling it the day I left him. And once, he sent a package addressed to ‘Chiko Makondo Obvious’, with boots in a colour I’d jokingly used as his nickname. Surely, that had to mean something. The fact that he still remembered these little things proved to me that he still cared, that I wasn’t crazy after all. Our relationship had indeed been real, and it was only a matter of time before we found our way back to each other.
This belief only grew stronger after I watched a sermon on how to recognise your soulmate. Every word reminded me of him. The chemistry and emotional bond mirrored what I felt with Mr Obvious. I thought about how easily I forgave him, how naturally I still saw him in my future… suddenly, everything made sense to me: he was my soulmate, my potential future husband. I knew our relationship had issues, but in my mind, all I had to do was fix them.
Was I Ready to Accept Reality
The role I had given him in my life made me desperate to make things work, no matter what. I actively ignored anything that suggested otherwise. If he wasn’t yet the man I needed him to be, then I would help him become that man. He just needed a push to realise how special we were.
So I tried everything. I blocked him. I followed advice from relationship gurus. I leaned on religion and therapy. I even posted cryptic stories on social media – anything to make him miss me, to make him miss what we had.
No matter what I tried, nothing had any lasting impact. We always ended up exactly where we started: keeping in touch, but with no signs of real commitment. I started to wonder whether distance was the problem…a simple case of out of sight, out of mind. So when my friends and I planned a trip to Australia, I saw it as the perfect opportunity to remind him of the closeness we once shared.
But this time, things had to be different. I felt like there was no way he would realise how special we were if we hung out just as we did before. If he wanted real access to me, he would have to change and prove he was ready. Being right in front of him would finally make him see what he stood to lose.
When we eventually spent time together, it made no difference. He still wasn’t showing any signs that things between us were going to change. To me, it seemed like he liked having me around but not enough to do anything about it. I left feeling deflated. I couldn’t understand why he wasn’t fighting for us or responding to my efforts the way I wanted him to. We loved each other deeply, so what was the problem?
Frustrated and out of options, I did the only thing I knew how to: I blocked him again. Maybe more time apart was what we needed to finally make things work.
I couldn’t bring myself to accept what his actions had been showing me all along: he didn’t see a future for us. Instead of moving on, I flooded my mind with old voice notes, videos and photos. My heart was still clinging to the belief that he was my soulmate, that what we had was worth waiting for. With every replay, the narrative grew stronger. For me, he was still the one.
The meaning I had assigned to him completely clouded my ability to accept the truth: I was refusing to let go of a relationship that had already ended.
Reaching Out: His Behaviour at Face Value
Years went by, and I slowly began to accept that I needed to move on, but a part of me remained stuck. The chapter with Mr Obvious never felt fully closed. After the failure of a new relationship, I realised I couldn’t keep dragging my past into my future. It was time to face it.
After some reflection, I decided to reach out. I was moving to Australia, where he lived, and I didn’t want old emotions hanging over the experience. I knew I couldn’t keep relying on assumptions or feelings from the past – I just wanted to understand where we stood. I was ready to accept his behaviour as the only answer I needed.
I messaged him on Instagram, letting him know I wanted to clear the air. After a short conversation, he said he would think about it. He asked when I was arriving and then left it there.
I assumed he just needed time – it had been almost a year since we last spoke. But when I landed in Australia, it was clear he had no intention of following up. He’d deactivated his Instagram. I even searched his name on another platform and saw he was still active. That told me everything: he had made his decision. He didn’t want me.
So I honoured my promise to myself. I accepted the silence and began moving on. I started to enjoy my time in Australia. I even had my eye on someone new. Slowly, I was learning to live without him – and without the story I had clung to for so long.
But a few months later, out of nowhere, he messaged: ‘Hey, Chiko.’ I was furious. I’d been doing well. I was finally closing the door, finding peace – and now my mind was spinning again. Deep down, I knew his silence had already been an answer. But I also knew myself. If I didn’t hear him out, I’d go back to creating excuses, replaying what-ifs, and missing him all over again. So I chose to meet him.
When we met, his signals were mixed. He never said directly that he didn’t want us, but he danced around it. In one breath, he said life had changed and his priorities were different. In another, he spoke about us hanging out again, reminisced about our songs, and promised to share new music. It all felt familiar. He was being outright uncommitted – wanting me around, as long as I didn’t expect anything real.
I left that night confused. I knew what he was saying without saying it: we were done. But my heart wasn’t ready. I couldn’t comprehend that after everything, he truly didn’t want us. I didn’t want to believe it.
A week later, he messaged again, asking to meet. I hesitated. I already knew where this was going, but part of me still hoped I was wrong. I decided I needed to confront it head-on – to leave my mind nowhere else to run but towards reality.
We made plans. He was meant to pick me up at a set time. Ten minutes before, he texted to say he’d be an hour late. That hour passed. Nothing. Forty minutes later, I realised I was being stood up. I messaged to say he didn’t have to come if he didn’t want to. Only then did he reply, saying he was fifteen minutes away. I debated cancelling, but I felt embarrassed. I had already told my friends he was coming, so I convinced myself that one last meeting might give me closure.
When he arrived, it felt like old times. We laughed, shared inside jokes, and the comfort was still there. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t real.
That night, I finally asked him: Why are you trying to keep me in your life if you know you don’t see me in it? I needed straight answers. And for the first time, he gave me one. We were over. He had a new life to prioritise.
His words, and more importantly, his actions, were the final nail in the coffin.
It was over.
And now, I had to do the hardest part: accept it, and let go of the story I had clung to for so many years. I had to let go of Mr Obvious.
Accepting Reality
Content Warning: This section describes emotional distress, grief, and thoughts around death. If you are experiencing similar feelings, please reach out to a professional or a crisis support service.
This realisation unleashed one of the most gut-wrenching, soul-twisting processes I’ve ever experienced. What do you do when the man you’ve loved for years looks you in the eye and says: I don’t want what you want. I don’t want us. Ndakapererwa – I didn’t know what to do.
A wave of emotions flooded my soul as I processed how many years I had spent selling myself dreams of our reunion, imagining the life we would build together and how deeply in love we would be. But now reality had ripped it all away. I had to accept that he was choosing a life without me and set aside my own projections of what I wanted him to do. For the first time, I genuinely had to accept that he did not want us – that our future together did not exist.
I felt an overwhelming sense of loss. My best friend was gone.
All I could do was cry. My entire existence sank into sadness. A simple ‘how are you?’ from someone would break me. Just thinking about love or relationships would send me into tears – whether I was on the train, opening a door, or cooking food. Simply breathing became painful. At its worst, I remember thinking death must be better than the hell I was experiencing. I never wanted to end my life, but I felt envious of the silence and peace death promised. I was exhausted from crying myself to sleep.
What saved me from spiralling down that dark path was my little nephew. During a routine call, he randomly asked if I was okay and innocently said, ‘I love you, Auntie.’ My eyes filled with tears as I desperately tried to hold it together. I needed to hear those words. My world was collapsing, but in that moment, he reminded me that I am loved, that I have a family, and that with that love, I could conquer anything. No matter what, I would be okay.
Those words replayed in my mind as I slowly began to accept that Mr Obvious was gone. But as that acceptance settled in, it brought with it a wave of resentment and fear. I resented the day he walked into my life. How dare he show me a love he didn’t intend to stay for? I was left to sit and stew in the multitude of memories we shared. He had moved on, and I was left to deal with everything alone. I had never imagined that life without me was an option he would actually take. But here I was, having to face the fact that it had always been on the table.
I began to wonder what I was supposed to do now that he was gone. My memories took me on a journey throughout the years since meeting him, and I realised I had never found another connection like the one I had with him. I thought about the great men I had met since, but none of them compared. That thought terrified me. What if I never find someone like him again? What if he ruined me for everyone else? I felt hopeless about the future. I felt stuck.
Deleting His Role in My Life: Letting Go of the Narrative
For weeks, I lived in uncertainty. Would I always be emotionally tied to this man? Would I ever meet someone who made me feel the way he did? A part of me was genuinely afraid.
I even considered holding on to a little hope. Maybe one day he would come back and tell me it was all a mistake. I knew deep down he was gone, but fear has a funny way of convincing you to stay attached, just in case.
So I started processing the relationship from beginning to end. And every time I did, I returned to the same question: what exactly was I afraid to lose? Yes, I loved our friendship. But if I was honest, there was a lot I didn’t like about him. I didn’t like how he avoided accountability or how inconsistent he was. Most of all, he didn’t have the qualities I needed in a partner. He showed little respect when he turned up over two hours late, ignored my messages for months, and rejected me in such a roundabout way. He had cheated throughout our entire relationship and lied about it – I was his side chick from the very first day I met him.
That wasn’t the type of love I wanted for my life. I wanted to feel safe and wanted. I wanted peace, clarity, and someone who was consistent, faithful and emotionally present. No matter how many memories I revisited, the truth stayed the same: that was not Mr Obvious.
Letting go became easier from that point. Each time a memory tried to resurface, I reminded myself of what his actions had already shown me. My mind no longer had room to fantasise or daydream. I had called him my future husband, but he hadn’t shown up as one. That role had been built on who I needed him to be, not who he actually was.
To forget him, I had to delete the version of him I had created. I worked through my fears, facing the worst case scenarios until they no longer had power over me. Then I removed him from social media and accepted, once and for all, that my life would be okay without him.
Reframe My Why and Redefine My Future
As I reflect on the years I spent fixated on him, I’ve realised something: I didn’t forget him because I couldn’t. I didn’t forget him because I didn’t want to. I was afraid of losing myself – not realising I had already found myself. He simply reminded me of who I already was, and that version of me had been alive ever since.
Now, I’m in a place where his memory is fading. He no longer feels significant in my life – just someone I used to know. I’m finally leaving him in the past. I can love someone new without comparison. I can go on dates and be fully present. I’m excited to build something new; something not shaped by baggage or old wounds.
Forgetting my ex was never really about him. It was about understanding what I had attached to him, and realising I never needed him to keep that part of myself alive.
Removing that narrative and reframing my why has finally allowed me to let go. I am at peace with the new life I now live.
What It Means for You
Letting go of someone you cared deeply for isn’t something that happens overnight. It’s a slow unravelling – of hopes, of memories, of the future you imagined. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.
Be patient with the process. The journey from reaching out to where I am now took a year and a half. Give yourself permission to take your time. Let yourself cry. Let yourself feel it all.
Take it from me:
You can forget that ex.
You can move on.
You can rebuild.
And you will find peace.
To help you on your own path, I’ve created a practical companion guide to walk you through each step: Forgetting Your Ex: A Step-by-Step Guide
