No Closure Yet. But, I Did Get A Diagnosis

It’s 2 a.m. and I’m spiraling.
I don’t know what to do with myself.
I want to be alone, but can’t stand being around anyone.
I should be looking for a job, but even opening my resume feels impossible.
I can’t believe I’m in this loop again.
Maybe I should go to the gym?
Maybe I’ll finally get a revenge body.
So when he sees me again, it stings.
Just a little. Right where his soul should be.

But instead, I’m frozen.

I’m doom-scrolling YouTube again, looking for something, anything, that will help me understand, make me feel less crazy.
Ideally in 10 minutes or less.
Perhaps ideas for a game plan… like:
“how to get over someone who rejected you but still watches your stories” kind of plan.

And then…

There it was.
Attachment Styles.
Why Do Avoidants Push You Away?
Signs You’re Dating a Dismissive Avoidant.

BAM.
Suddenly, everything clicks.
That’s him. To an emotionally unavailable, avoidant-ass T.
I’ve diagnosed this man with clinical avoidance.

Hot one minute, gone the next.
Emotionally allergic to commitment.
Needs space, but wants access.
Still kind of checking in, but not really.
Still texting me like nothing happened, but won’t talk about what actually did.

What does this guy want from me?
Comfort? A fan club? A backup plan?

So naturally, I did what any emotionally spiraling, attachment-style-obsessed woman does at 2 a.m.
I started spamming my friends.
Screenshots. Reels. YouTube clips. And an endless stream of voice notes.
I sent them the entire internet:

“This is him, right???”
“Tell me I’m not crazy.”
“Okay but this part, this part literally is him.”
“Like… does this make sense or am I just reading into shit?”

My girlfriend says this guy is a walking definition of an avoidant.
And suddenly, I feel seen. Vindicated. Finally, it made sense.

But my mind kept spinning.

What if I triggered it?
What if I was too much?
Do you think he ever actually cared, or was it all a lie?
Would it have worked if I had just… chilled the fuck out?

She didn’t hesitate. Right away, she shut me down and reminded me this wasn’t on me.
That he was showing exactly who he was, and it had nothing to do with my worth.
He simply wasn’t capable of giving me what I needed.
He didn’t have the tools.
If anything, he was the one who didn’t measure up.
It wasn’t me.

And honestly, I needed to hear it — ten times, on repeat, in bold, maybe even tattooed on my forehead.

Because it wasn’t sinking in.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

But wait.

If he’s avoidant… what does that make me?

And why does this hit so deep, every time?
That’s the question I wasn’t ready for.
Maybe one you’ve asked yourself too.

This is the hard part.

The desperate attempt to make sense of confusion that’s now mine to carry, alone.
Because the second I was getting comfortable, the rug got pulled.

Now I’m sitting in the debris, trying to piece my sense of self back together.
And if you’ve been there, you know.

This is where the internet becomes your therapist.
Your psychic’s number is set to speed dial.
Your besties become your emergency trauma squad.
You’re trying to solve the unsolvable.
I was too.
Trying to diagnose someone’s disinterest so you don’t have to face what that disinterest means about you.

Because if you can name it, maybe you can fix it.
If you can label it, maybe you’ll feel less crazy.
And if you can understand it… maybe you won’t feel so rejected.

But here’s the truth:
This isn’t about him.
It never was.
It’s about your relationship with abandonment.
With uncertainty.
With your own self-worth.

It’s about confronting the little asshole voice inside that whispers, you’re not loveable.
So yeah, I went looking for answers.
And maybe you have too.
You try everything. Anything.
Anything to dull the ache of your dwindling self-worth, heartache, and lack of closure all at once.
Anything to soothe the anxiety buzzing in your body, making you feel incoherent on a good day.
Whatever it takes.

But closure doesn’t live there.
It never has.
It lives in the uncomfortable, messy, unfiltered realization that no amount of research or rationalizing will heal the part of you that just wanted to feel safe and chosen.
And there is nothing and no one that can make you feel whole again, except you.

You can’t make someone stay who was never really grounded in the first place.
And the cold hard truth is… you probably never really knew them to begin with.
I didn’t.

I also had to ask… do I even know myself?

But what you can do is this:
Learn to be with yourself.
Even when the questions go unanswered.
Even when it feels like you’re the only one trying to make sense of something that never made sense to begin with.

And yeah… it sucks.
It’s hard as fuck.

But this is your invitation to stop chasing clarity where it doesn’t exist, and start choosing yourself.

So maybe I didn’t get closure, but I definitely got stronger legs.
And that has to count for something.