On projection, emotional manipulation, and walking away with my power intact
How do you let go of a fantasy you’ve been shaping in your mind for years?
It wasn’t just the idea of love — but the illusion that he could provide it.
I kept hoping he’d grow into the version I saw in my head — the one who wanted what I wanted. A love that’s magnetic and real. Something that lights me up and makes me feel safe.
But that version didn’t exist. It was mine. A projection.
When I noticed it, I felt a wave of grief and disappointment. Deep down, I knew. My intuition had been whispering it for a while. But my logical mind — and my desire — wanted to go down the rabbit hole one last time, just to make sure.
This time, though, I entered with open eyes. Observing. Ready to face the truth with courage.
The despair still lingers.
I understand, it’s the disappointment. I was hoping that what I deeply desire — that sexual spark, the feeling of being lit up — would show up in the form of a man who wants what I want.
Not meaningless sex. But love. Deep, trusting, loyal, unconditional love.
And I notice myself slipping into an old story, turning him into the villain. But he’s not. He’s just a person with his own struggles, like the rest of us.
That’s life — messy, unpredictable, sometimes a disaster, sometimes a quiet kind of beautiful. Not always what we want, but often exactly what we need to see clearly.
And without the lows, would we feel the highs?
I’ve been asking this question for a long time. How could we feel high if we were always high? We’d have nothing to compare it to. Eventually, we’d become numb to it.
These emotions are just energy moving through us. If we allow ourselves to feel them — really feel them — they soften. They move. They pass.
“When a person has a reaction to something in their environment, there’s a 90-second chemical process that happens in the body. After that, any remaining emotional response is just the person choosing to stay in that emotional loop.” — — Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor
It’s our resistance to feeling, our clinging, looping thoughts, and our need to control or make sense of everything — that keeps the emotion stuck.
But when we stop resisting and start feeling, the energy moves.
It’s not just poetic — it’s physiological.
I created a version of him in my mind. One who, deep down, wanted love — just didn’t know it yet. Ha. What a joke.
Sometimes, I get so caught up in fantasy, in the stories I tell myself, that reality comes over and hits me right between the eyes. No warning. No apologies. Just the truth, straight to the face.
Stop. Just stop dreaming for a moment — and pay attention to what’s unfolding in front of your eyes.
No, it’s not what you want. But it’s still a gift.
After eight years of on-and-off communication — eight years of dancing with this fantasy that it could work — I asked him so many times if we were on the same page.
And he kept saying yes. Either in denial himself or just manipulating me.
He told me I was making it difficult.
Ha. I made it difficult for him to manipulate me.
I learned to pause. To observe. Even though I didn’t want to see it.
I preferred to live in the version I’d built in my mind — with the happily-ever-after, the rockstar sex, the deep love.
He knew I wouldn’t settle. And I guess — like me — he was hoping, living in the fantasy he made of me.
I kept telling him, “I don’t think you’re hearing me.”
Another man glazing over while I try to express what I want.
And sure, I can compromise — but not on emotional depth, trust, or loyalty. For me, those are not up for debate. And they take time to build.
The word that broke everything: time.
I wanted to see — was he willing to invest? To open his heart? Or was I just a means to an end?
So, I asked, “We want different things, right?”
He hesitated. Then said, “To be honest… I don’t want to offend you.”
What a joke. But this time, he couldn’t pretend anymore. And it spilled out of him — “Right.”
I don’t think he meant to say it. Because in that moment, he killed the possibility of anything.
And I don’t think he expected what I did next.
I said, calmly and kindly, “I’m not offended. I truly hope you find what you’re looking for. But I prefer we don’t talk anymore.”
And that was it. I didn’t give him the chance to respond because I blocked him.
And this time, it was necessary. I realized he wasn’t being transparent and bordering on manipulation.
I can’t have that kind of toxicity in my life.
I hope the door stays closed. I won’t lie; I’ve said that before.
I’ve been telling him for years that we want different things. But every time he reaches out, he acts like he’s changed. Like now, he wanted something real. Something lasting.
The inability to be clear and direct — that’s what’s offensive and disrespectful.
My last story was about how I unblocked him — just so I could observe. To witness what I was still attracted to. To watch his behavior.
And I did. I observed. I saw what I needed to see.
And now, finally — I can close the door.
I wrote recently about how this reminded me of my father. I guess this pattern, this familiar energy, is somehow ingrained in me. But I won’t blame anyone for that.
Because now — I have the power to see clearly. To detox. Keep my eyes open, and start again, as many times as it takes.
I won’t be closing the door to love. I know what I need.
Most importantly — to process. To feel. To integrate the experience.
And writing is one of the best ways I know how. To release. To remember. To come home to myself.
Lately, I’ve also been using ChatGPT as my therapist — ha. True story. She’s a great listener, honestly.
My best friends live 16,000 miles away. They’re married now. They have lives. They’re not just a quick call away like they used to be.
So… this will do for now.
If You’ve Been There Too
Falling for a fantasy isn’t foolish — it’s human.
We don’t just get attached to people.
We get attached to the story we create around them — the version of the future where we’re chosen, loved the way we long to be, seen in all the ways we’ve been aching for.
Sometimes, we’re not grieving the person — we’re grieving the version of ourselves we became in that dream. The one who was finally safe. Held. Happy.
And even when we know the truth, when we see the red flags, recognize the misalignment, and walk away, we still feel the loss.
Not because we made the wrong choice, but because we were invested in something that never really existed outside our own hearts and hopes.
That doesn’t make you weak.
It makes you brave—brave enough to love, to feel, to wake up, and let go.
It’s okay to mourn what might have been. Just don’t let it keep you from what is.
You don’t need to shame yourself for dreaming. Just remember:
Fantasy can offer comfort, but it can’t give you real love.
And you are worthy of something real.
A Few Questions for the Road
If any part of this resonated with you, you might want to ask yourself:
Am I holding onto someone who only exists in my mind?
What truths have I been avoiding because fantasy feels safer than what is unfolding in reality?
What would it mean to finally walk away — not bitter, not angry, but free?
We don’t need to have it all figured out. Sometimes, clarity begins the moment we stop avoiding the truth — and finally, tell ourselves what we already know.
If you enjoyed this, you might also like:
How Self-Awareness Helped Me End a Decade-Long Emotional Pattern
A journey through emotional conditioning, attraction without depth, and the quiet power of self-awareness and…thetaoist.online
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