Praying for The One Who Hurt Me

Kate Robertson
Sep 3, 2018 · 5 min read

Everyone has that one breakup that hits particularly hard, for whatever reason. I had “that breakup” recently. And even though he hurt me, I’ve said a prayer for him nearly every night since then.

He was the kind of person I thought only existed in movies. He came with a world of baggage, mostly from past romantic relationships and struggles with his family. He was open and honest with me about those struggles, even before we started dating. But everyone is a little broken in his or her own way, myself included. I tried to be equally as honest with him about my insecurities in return.

I saw things in him that perhaps he didn’t see himself. Intelligent. Witty. Charismatic. Handsome (his eyes, oh my goodness, his eyes). Thoughtful. Full of gumption. Incredibly talented with his work. He made me smile and/or laugh with just a couple words. He marched to the beat of his own drum and didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought — I envied that a lot, actually.

Aside from all that, our chemistry was unlike any I’d had with anyone else. I was comfortable around him from the first time we accidentally spent a whole Saturday together. I never worried that he’d “push” me for anything. Even though he was a little rough around the edges, I felt like I could be the best version of myself around him, without abandon.

The more time we spent together, the more I learned about him—even the darker sides—the more I cared for him, flaws and all. I didn’t set out trying to “fix” or change him; I only wanted to be his ray of sunshine. I wanted to show him that not every woman is going to hurt or manipulate him. I wanted to show him a happy, healthy, stable relationship. I wanted us to be happy together.

He called me “a breath of fresh air.” He said I was the most “normal, not crazy” girl he’s ever dated. He said he never worried about me. This is it, I thought. I’m making a difference in his life. I’m making him happy, even if only a little at a time.

We had our first “real hiccup” after about six months. We talked through it, and things seemed to go back to normal for a couple weeks after. The nature of my job changed and I started working more than usual. He picked up some extra projects and gigs, too. We went from spending two or three nights a week together to just one. When we were apart, or when we didn’t talk as much during the day, I worried that he was done with me; cue PTSD from a previous relationship. But when we were together, everything still felt right. I justified it by saying we were both busy, and that he did still want to see me, despite how busy we were. I convinced myself everything was okay and I wasn’t going to lose him.

But my anxiety never really went away. So several weekends ago when we met for lunch, I broached the subject with him. In the midst of telling him that I wanted to know I was as important to him as he is to me, he said maybe it’d be better if we “took a step back” and went back to “just friends” for a bit.

I was shocked, hurt, confused and crushed. I talked in circles because I couldn’t process anything. I couldn’t imagine not holding his hand, kissing him, cooking dinner together, having movie marathons, him teasing me about how picky of an eater I am. I tried to tell him that it was all because I cared about him. I guess I thought that if he truly knew how much he meant to me, he’d stay.

We left lunch and I wandered around the parking lot aimlessly for a little bit. I called my mother, and then a trusted friend from work; my friend joined me in the parking lot, and we walked a few laps while I cried and tried to process what happened. As I repeated the things he’d told me about trusting me, never worrying about me, being a breath of fresh air, I wondered if he got scared and wanted to run away. Why would anyone get scared of such a good thing, such a good woman who cared for him and just wanted to make him happy? When the only things someone has known are hurt, manipulation and chaos, something “normal” and healthy probably felt unnatural. I would have been the last person to hurt him. But with his past, how was he to know or believe any differently?

Just because all you’ve ever known is “crazy,” doesn’t mean you should have to settle and deal with it.

I have to come to terms with the fact that I may never get those answers. Even if I asked him directly, I doubt he’d tell me what I was looking for. The further away I get from it, the more I realize how our lack of communication about the “serious things” contributed to our downfall. Just because we talked every day didn’t mean we were great communicators. Lesson learned, for sure.

I have to come to terms with the fact that there was only so much I could do to show him that I cared. There was only so much I could do to help him pick up those pieces. At some point, he has to decide he wants to change. He has to decide that it’s time for the walls to come down. He has to decide to learn to love and value himself.

And that is what I’m struggling with the most. I hate thinking that I could only do so much. But I gave him all I could give. He has to look inside himself and find the courage to face his insecurities and brokenness. It’s not up to me to “fix” him. I can’t help him more than he’ll let me—or anyone else, for that matter. It has to come from within.

This is why I pray for him.

I pray that he sees his value and his worth. I pray that he, eventually, is willing to tear down those walls and change for the better. I pray that he discovers how to love himself, and in turn discovers how to love another person the same way they love him. I pray that he finds happiness in life.

Darling, if you’re reading this, know that I did it all because I cared about you. I wasn’t trying to “fix” or change you; I’m sorry if that’s what it became. I wanted to be with you just the way you are. Know that I don’t hate you or harbor any ill will. I know you aren’t the praying type, but I truly want you to be happy.

I just hate that we couldn’t be happy together any longer.

I’m here for you. And I always will be.

Kate Robertson

Written by

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade