Friendships, Basements & Backslides

Through my relationship with Lucas, I eliminated large parts of my previous life. I stopped seeing most of my friends because he disapproved my connection to them, or there was no energy left from giving all my attention to him and our shared projects. I also wanted to avoid his remarkswhenever I spent time with them instead of him.

After the breakup, I was able to reconnect with many of them and was relieved to realize that my fears of losing them were unfounded. Now I returned to Berlin to see all the people I had neglected for years. 

Lucas’ belongings were still in my basement, so I spent days sorting through our bags. After three days in the basement, I paused and looked around. My life seemed to consist of moving stuff from A to B. A life of boxes and bags. It had to stop. 

At the same time, the thought of creating order scared me. I’d grown used to chaos and extremes; normality felt like a cage. I sorted his things from mine, ready to hand them over. When I contacted his friends, it didn’t surprise me they knew nothing of our breakup. Of course, he hadn’t told anyone—the one who was not allowed to be left. 

That week, I reflected on how I used to live: constantly rushing from one appointment to the next, afraid to stand still. With Lucas, I learned to slow down. He reminded me not to overdo it, and I was grateful for that. Together, we planned our weeks carefully, focusing on what truly mattered and creating balance in my previously chaotic life.

Now, I immediately fell back into old patterns: doing too much at once, collapsing into bed exhausted, and still feeling like I had achieved nothing. Rushing from one appointment to the next and not giving my friends the time they deserve. 

That relationship cost me a lot, but it also gave me something. I want to keep that—bringing more balance into my life and using the positive experiences from that time. 

I spent the day with my best friend and his daughter. Someone I wasn’t allowed to see for two years.

In the past, every time I visited Berlin I would stay with them. They were my chosen family, and that was the problem. To Lucas, my friend was a thorn in his side—a man close to me, with a daughter who called me “aunt.” Lucas wanted me to become his family, no one else's. He made it clear: if I kept staying with them, he wouldn’t fully commit to our relationship.

I understood his point. I knew it would cost me a piece of my life and my freedom, but I still agreed.

However, when my friend asked me to babysit his daughter for a weekend—something we had planned long before I met Lucas—me and Lucas had a huge fight. To him, it was unthinkable that I’d spend time with another man’s child instead of being with him in that situation.

So, I canceled on my friend, putting him in a difficult position because he now had to find someone else last minute. I was caught in the middle. Slowly, it dawned on me that my connection to my friend wasn’t just unwelcome during crises—it wasn’t welcome at all.

"I don’t want anything to do with him," Lucas said. "Anyone who has anything to do with him, I don’t want them in my life."

It was an ultimatum. So, I relented. I left my chosen family to save a relationship I wanted so badly, I was willing to do anything to make it work.

Then jealousy moved in like a freeloader. Early in our relationship, he had mentioned a man he was once in love with. He described this person as though he were some kind of superhuman—someone who possessed all the qualities I lacked. Every time he mentioned him, a knife drove straight into my heart.

Eventually, I realized where my deep jealousy stemmed from. Everyone else received his love effortlessly, while I had to fight for it. Behind closed doors, I saw his worst sides. It was as if I didn’t deserve love, as if I were merely tolerated, as if I had to constantly prove myself to stay in his good graces. I was jealous simply because he was nice to them. Hardly ever to me.

The rare moments when I truly felt loved gave me just enough strength to keep going. At first, he apologized for his outbursts, and I believed him. But soon, even hugs felt fleeting. I knew his declarations of love wouldn’t last. I lived in constant readiness for the next fight.

I knew he was loyal to me—given our 24/7 togetherness, an affair was practically impossible. Yet he repeatedly threatened: “If you don’t behave, I’ll go with the next woman who smiles at me.”

Today, at my best friend’s dinner table, everything felt like it used to. We laughed, talked, danced in the kitchen. I was again part of the family I had given up. I was so grateful to be welcomed back.

From the speakers, Britney Spears' “Toxic” played: “I’m addicted to you, don’t you know that you’re toxic?” Tears streamed down my face. I had missed out on so much time with them, yet they welcomed me back with unconditional love.

Later that day, I experienced a turning point. I tried to put the little one to bed. All day, we’d been discussing her screen time habits. Before sleeping, she wanted to listen to an audiobook but stood there holding the iPad. Assuming she was secretly watching a show, I grabbed it. She got angry, and so did I.

Then something shifted. I started to reason with her, as I used to with Lucas, ready to place blame for my reaction—but stopped myself. I’d misunderstood her. Instead of justifying my anger, I apologized and calmly explained why I was upset.

She accepted my apology, and we reconnected. I realized I had tried something new: I owned up to my mistake without attacking her. And it worked.

At the same time, it hurt because I wished I could have communicated like this in my relationship. Maybe things would have been different. But back then, I was just trying to survive. I had no space for insights like this.

Returning to my chosen family felt like reclaiming a lost part of myself. That small conflict showed me I could resolve issues without blame—that admitting mistakes isn’t weakness. Breaking free from that relationship gave me the space to learn this, even if it hurts to realize it only now.

If you have thoughts or questions on these or other topics, feel free to leave a comment or contact me directly. 

Be well.

Vaselisa