The Hardest Goodbye: A Polyamorous Breakup and What It Taught Me
TikTok video from 2025-05-03
Yesterday broke my heart.
I had the hardest breakup I’ve had since becoming polyamorous—and I’m still sitting in the tenderness of it. Still a little dazed. Still feeling the weight of what it means to love someone so deeply and still have to say goodbye.
I broke up with Sapio.
And honestly? I didn’t expect it to happen this way.
But now that it has, I can see how many signs I ignored.
How much of myself I quieted.
How much I loved him… at the cost of myself.
And I want to share this—not because it’s neat or wrapped up with a bow—but because polyamory isn’t just about having multiple loves.
It’s about learning how to love yourself in every one of them.
Here’s the truth:
I wasn’t being honest.
Not with him. Not with myself.
There were things he loved—ways he played, ways he communicated, patterns of behavior—that just didn’t work for me. That didn’t feel good. That didn’t make me happy.
And instead of saying something, I swallowed it.
I convinced myself that if I just stretched a little more, bent a little further, stayed quiet just one more time, maybe it would be okay.
Because I loved him.
God, I loved him.
But loving someone doesn’t mean erasing yourself.
Last week, something happened.
We went sideways. Something cracked open—and not in a healing, illuminating way. In a way that made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. Like I had to contort myself again to make it work.
And I just… couldn’t.
I couldn’t come back from it.
Yesterday, we had the conversation.
The conversation.
The one where you know what you have to say before you even say it. The one where your heart is screaming and your mouth is whispering, and your body is somewhere between bracing and breaking.
He didn’t see it coming.
And that might be the part that hurts the most.
Because I had held in so much for so long, he had no idea I was drowning.
That’s on me. That’s my work to do. To speak sooner. To trust myself faster. To believe that honoring my needs doesn’t make me unloving—it makes me whole.
Today, I’m sad.
Of course I am.
You don’t lose someone you’ve loved and just walk away untouched. Even when you know it was the right choice. Even when the relationship wasn’t sustainable. Even when you’re choosing peace over passion.
There’s still grief.
There’s still softness.
There’s still that ache of “I wish it had been different.”
But there’s also something else growing underneath the sadness:
Self-trust.
A quiet knowing that I listened to myself.
That I honored my truth.
That next time, I’ll speak up sooner.
That love doesn’t have to mean self-sacrifice.
Polyamory has taught me a lot about relationships. But this? This is the lesson I’ll carry forward with both hands:
If it costs me my joy, my truth, or my peace—no matter how much I love you—it’s too damn expensive.
So I’m breathing.
I’m healing.
I’m making space for what’s next.
