I started dating my first girlfriend a couple of months into my freshman year of college. The weekend I moved into my freshman dorm, weeks after turning 18, I did the first thing that came to mind with my newfound adulthood: I jumped on the dating apps. Within three months, I met a girl that I fell head over heels for, and in true lesbian fashion, we moved fast. After nine long months of long-distance, she moved to Orlando (she had been attending UCF online), and within three months of living in the same city, we had essentially moved in together. I completely lost myself in that relationship, and after a summer of non-stop fighting, she broke up with me a day before we were supposed to leave for our second anniversary trip.
I was crushed. I had begun to plan my life around her, letting go of my own goals and dreams for someone who “didn’t really have any ambition” (her words, not mine). I had lost myself so entirely in being her partner, in being one half of a pair, and I didn’t know who I was anymore. I isolated myself from the friendships I had cared deeply about, and the domestic lifestyle we had fallen into meant that, to me, she was home. I was dealing with the dreaded first sapphic breakup — and I had no idea where to begin.
The Why
The pain didn’t last forever. After a week and a half of throwing myself into any form of mind-numbing media I could find. After leaving the city to spend a weekend with my childhood best friend, the clouds began to part. Space away from the relationship was leading me to realize many things. In hindsight, this relationship should have lasted two months, not two years; there are several factors that contributed to its longevity.
First of all, we were long-distance (only a two-hour drive, but it counts when only one of you is willing to make the drive). This meant that any time I was upset with her, the feeling of missing her would take over the feeling of upset. I brushed things off and forgave what I shouldn’t have, such as her dismissing my gender identity, making fun of me for being neurodivergent, and body-shaming me. The times that we were able to see each other were ecstatic and blissful, and the times we were apart were the lowest of lows.
Another factor is that I was experiencing a second adolescence that many queer adults face.
I had spent a lot of high school uncomfortable with my sexuality. I was jealous of my friends who could talk openly about their crushes and seemed to have plenty of fish in the sea. Coming to college and immediately getting into a relationship was exhilarating. Many things I did with her were my firsts: first Valentine’s Day, first person I introduced to my parents, and we even went to the Zebra Coalition’s Pride Prom together.
My post-breakup clarity didn’t mean that the healing process was easy. Healing isn’t linear. Some weeks would be good, until I would find an old text that would send me spiraling, or have a dream that we had reconciled.
What helped the most
Upping my therapy sessions to once a week was the most important part of getting over the breakup. My therapist helped me be honest about what was best for me, telling me to remove her from my Close Friends on Instagram, then unfollowing her, and eventually blocking her on social media when I realized she was still viewing my stories. Now she’s blocked on everything. I even muted and unfollowed the few people I knew exclusively through my ex when the jumpscare of suddenly seeing her face on someone else’s Instagram story was too much for me. For periods of time, I deleted all social media. I found that the algorithm sending me “if you’re seeing this, they’re thinking about you” videos was feeding into fantasies and overall pettiness.
I left town to visit a friend at Florida Atlantic University. The change of scenery was good for me, especially when driving around Orlando continuously brought memories of things we did together, even the Publix closest to campus was haunted with memories. I reconnected with the relationships that I had been neglecting. Losing “my person” helped me realize all of the amazing people I was surrounded by who truly cared about me.
I talked to older friends who had been through it before. Getting a more mature perspective on the situation from someone other than my therapist was refreshing and gave me confidence that I would be okay and that I would find love again. I was honest with myself about the relationship: what it was, where I could have been a better partner, and when I should have stepped away instead of pushing forward.
What I learned about myself
I have grown more in this past year than I have in years, and I feel more like myself than I have since I first came out at 15 years old.
I realized that I had created a codependent relationship with my ex to replace a codependent friendship loss that had crushed me in my senior year of high school. When the opportunity presented itself to attach myself to someone, I jumped in with both feet, robbing myself of the opportunity to process and heal from the last couple of tumultuous years.
Ultimately, I realized that dumping me was the best thing my ex had ever done for me.
looking forward
I told myself I would stay single for the entirety of 2025. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t enjoy dating, meeting people, and creating new memories for myself. In the future, I know that my next romantic relationship needs to be with someone whose values better align with my own, someone who is driven by their own goals and passions, and whose life revolves around themselves, not around me.
I don’t regret a single person who has found their way into and back out of my life; every relationship I’ve had, whether it be romantic or platonic, has taught me something about myself. As an old friend once told me, “Some people are in your life for a reason, and some only for a season,” and I’m thankful for every season I’ve gone through.