Two and a half months ago, on the day before Valentine’s Day, my world was shattered in the matter of a couple seconds on a facetime. I knew him so well that I could tell what he had to say in his eyes, but I didn’t want to believe it. It was the beginning of one of the darkest times of my life.

Ever since I was 16 years old, I believed that he was the one for me. I believed that up until I was 19. I’m still 19, but I haven’t believed that for over a month now. He and I had gotten so serious that we had a dog and turtle together, we had rings on our fingers, and we were making plans for our future together. We were supposed to move in together next school year. Little did I know she was a constant presence in his life for a solid year and a half of our 2-year relationship. He told me he wasn’t feeling anything for me anymore and needed a break from a relationship, but we’d still be friends and there was a chance we would get back together in the future. Then he went and got with her four days later. FOUR. Then he began to act cold and distant. To say the least, I was devastated. Not only had I lost my lover, I lost my best friend of three years in the matter of a few days.

Two and a half months ago when everything felt like it was crashing down around me, I decided to get myself help because I was literally alone. I had no support from anyone. I stared at that phone number on the screen of my phone for the longest amount of time. Did I really need this? Will I really have the courage to go? Yes, I really did need it and I would find a way to motivate myself to go. I wanted to get better. No—I needed to get better. I needed help.

Two and a half months ago I walked into the psychological services clinic filled with anxiety. As I sat in that waiting room I contemplated leaving because of shame. “Am I really back at this point?” I thought to myself. I hadn’t had therapy since I was in rehab years ago after my friends had died and I had gotten out of an extremely toxic relationship—which, by the way, happened to be the time in my life when my ex and I became best friends. This was the first time in my life I was truly alone at rock bottom.

My first session with my therapist was awkward and I didn’t know where to begin. I felt like my problem was tiny and I shouldn’t have been so upset over it—like everyone was telling me “just get over it, you’ll find someone better and new.” As true as those words are, it was more complicated because of the impact my ex had made on my life. Like I said before, he was there for me in the darkest time of my life in the fall of 2015. He was one of the reasons I had motivation to get better. He had been through all of the struggles I went through since the fall of 2015. Another reason I was so upset, as simple as it sounds, was because I was in love with him. Key word there is was. He led me to believe that we would get back together eventually but got with his new girlfriend—now apparently fiancée—right after he left me. The end of our relationship was completely unexpected. The weekend prior he had literally cried over an anniversary gift I gave him, because he “loved me so much.” Even the night before he left me, he was telling me he loved me forever and always and that I was his world. So yes, I was upset and broken because of him leaving. I was ashamed that out of everything that has happened to me in life, a breakup was why I landed in therapy.

I remember clearly right after my first therapy session, I went back to my dorm room and sat on the floor in the corner and just bawled my eyes out. I didn’t feel any better, in fact I felt worse after talking about my emotions. I had the urge to call him and I did. Nothing was holding me back from calling him—not even his bitterness towards me. I was sitting in my room crying to him on the phone and all he could say was “I don’t care” and “I don’t love you anymore” and “you ruined everything not me.” I believed him. I believed that I ruined everything, and I began to really blame myself for him leaving. I still had hope that he cared and that he loved me…because how can you stop caring and fall out of love with someone when you cared and loved for them just a week before?

Two and a half months later I’m sitting here in my room on my bed writing this crying. Same actions, same place, but for a different reason. Today was my last day of therapy. Not many people knew I was in therapy over the past two and a half months—not even my dad—because I felt like it was something I had to face alone. Only my closest friends knew. Only the people I trusted knew. Looking back over the past two and a half months, ive grown so much. I’ve become content and happy with being alone, I’ve found so much strength I didn’t know I had in me, and I found happiness in the little things in life.

I’ve always believed the saying “everything happens for a reason” but before now, I never really saw it unfold. I’ve done so much, experienced so much, and met so many new people in the past two and a half months. I’ve truly grown into a new person because of all of this and because of myself. That courage to go into therapy changed my life. I honestly believe I would still be hung up on my ex if I hadn’t gone to get that help. I wouldn’t have realized I was isolating myself if I hadn’t gone to therapy. I have some really great friends now, I have so much hope for my future, and I have a lot of love for myself that I didn’t have before. My friends were right, I had to get over it and I would find someone new that was better. I got over the situation, I got over him, and I believe I’ve found someone better—that’s still playing out though. Even without someone else to love and be loved by, I am thriving. I now see that he had to leave for me to become who I need to be right now at this exact moment in time. Do I miss having a best friend like him? Sometimes, but I have other best friends. Better best friends actually. Do I feel like I need him? Absolutely not. I don’t need anyone but myself to be happy and to live my life to the fullest. I am who I am because of what I went through, and I am only going to continue to get stronger and better.

Two and a half months ago, on the day before Valentine’s Day, my world was shattered in the matter of a couple seconds on a facetime, but two and a half months later I know my worth and I am doing better than I ever was.