Grief over my twin flame drove me to despair

Grief over my twin flame drove me to despair and my disbelief grew. Why do I feel like this?
Ever since the breakup with my twin flame, I’ve been drowning in a kind of grief that words don’t quite capture. Devastated comes close, but even that feels too small. Every little thing, folding laundry, making coffee, standing at the sink, has turned into a quiet war between my tears and the world expecting me to carry on as normal.

From the moment I opened my eyes that morning, the reality hit me like a punch in the chest: he’s gone. And with that, the wave came. My heart felt like it was screaming, but I had to stay silent. My partner was still lying next to me, unaware. I couldn’t break down there. So I escaped. I slipped downstairs, finally letting the tears fall where no one could hear.

And yet… I was so angry with myself. Why am I feeling this way? Why does this loss tear at me so deeply, when, logically, I should be mourning the relationship I was still in? The relationship that had fallen apart in its own right? We had drifted so far, worn down by problems we couldn’t fix. And yet, I couldn’t cry for him. I couldn’t even access that grief.

I found the whole idea of a twin flame… strange, almost unreal. I fought against it with everything I had. I wanted no part of it .

If I could have chosen a different kind of love story, I would have. One that was simpler. Softer. A path that led to peace instead of chaos, to closeness instead of separation.

Grief over my twin flame drove me to despair

Instead, every ounce of sadness, every scream locked in my throat, belonged to someone else. To my twin flame. The connection I felt with him… it was so intense, so overwhelming, it carved itself into me. Even if things were impossible, even if it could never work, it felt like he took a part of my soul when he left.

That’s what hurts the most. Not just losing him, but feeling like I lost me too.

Grief over my twin flame drove me to despair

There were moments I just couldn’t bear being in my own skin. I kept thinking, I shouldn’t feel this way. That something was wrong with me for still hurting so much. I tried to hide it, to quiet the emotions, to push them away. But the feelings were too strong, too big to contain. They kept spilling out, grief, longing, confusion, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back.

And yet, something shifted when I stepped outside. The moment I was surrounded by trees, by the quiet green of nature, I could finally breathe. I still cried, but it was softer. The rustling leaves, the stillness of the world around me, it felt like the earth itself was comforting me, reminding me I wasn’t alone, that healing doesn’t have to happen all at once.

I thought about him constantly. Every minute. It consumed me, just like it had when we were still together. But back then, those thoughts were welcome. They were beautiful. He felt it too. We shared that intensity, that pull. We couldn’t get enough of each other.

Goodbye for now

And now… we’ve said goodbye. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want contact. He says he doesn’t feel anything anymore. And that cuts deeper than I know how to explain. I feel betrayed, by him, by the connection, by the way everything once felt so real. How can something so strong, so vivid, just disappear for him? It doesn’t make sense to my heart. It feels impossible.

Part of me can’t accept it. My ego, my pain, my disbelief, they keep spinning the story, trying to make sense of something that just hurts. I can’t find peace in it yet. I long for understanding, for stillness, for closure. But right now, all I can do is feel it. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe, for now, simply feeling it is enough.

I knew I had to find a way out of the storm inside me. I couldn’t keep living like this, caught in that whirlpool of emotion. There were moments when it felt like I was losing touch with reality. The longing, the sadness, the despair… they were too much, too heavy. And on top of that, I was caught in a battle with my own mind and ego.
I didn’t want to feel all of this. I didn’t understand why I was feeling it. Part of me even thought, What’s wrong with me?
How could I be so deeply affected by someone I’d never even met in real life?

Finding a way out

And yet, the connection between us felt undeniable. It was as if our souls had always known each other, like we were somehow one. I know that might sound strange to others, even impossible. But I felt it. We both did.

And still, I was so angry with him. How could he suddenly act as if it meant nothing? As if all those feelings had vanished into thin air? As if love had never been there? But it was there. I’m saying it now, even if we never had the courage to speak it out loud when it mattered. That feeling, that quiet, unspoken knowing, it didn’t need words.

It lived in the space between us. Our intuition told us everything we needed to know. Actually, it didn’t whisper, it screamed in silence. That energy, that pull, was overwhelming. In response to feeling, the mind begins to overthink. search for explanations, while the heart already knows what the mind has yet to understand.

But we kept trying to explain it away. To reason with it. To shrink it down into something logical, manageable. We stayed in our heads.
We cover it up behind ego. Maybe we were both afraid of the depth of it. Of what it could mean. Or of what we’d have to risk if we let ourselves fully feel it.

the heart already knows what the mind has yet to understand.

Grief over my twin flame drove me to despair

Nothing seemed to come out of my hands anymore, except for the bare essentials, housework, cooking, just the things that had to be done. I went through the motions, but I felt disconnected from it all. The joy I used to find in little things had faded. Everything felt heavy, like I was carrying around invisible weight. My body was tense, my mind constantly stressed, and the world felt gray, no matter how bright the day outside might have looked.

The only two things that gave me a sliver of relief were exercising and walking. Somehow, moving my body helped me feel a little less trapped in my thoughts. Going for walks, especially, gave me space to breathe. Step by step, I felt like I was grounding myself, even if only for a moment.

The internet offered some comfort, but it also brought a lot of confusion

Somewhere along the way, in my search for understanding, I came across a few online forums. I didn’t expect much at first, but as I started reading, I found comfort in the stories of strangers. So many of them spoke about twin flames—deep, soul-level connections that come into your life suddenly, powerfully, and often painfully. They talked about the intensity, the confusion, the heartbreak of separation. And in their words, I saw pieces of myself. For a while, it felt good just to know I wasn’t alone.

But over time, I also realized something important: as comforting as those stories were, they didn’t give me what I truly needed. Everyone had a different version of the truth, and many were so certain theirs was the only way. Some sites even promised to reunite you with your twin flame—for a price—but instead of clarity, I found even more confusion. I felt lost, and at times, I started losing myself in all of it.

Eventually, I stopped reading. I turned inward and focused on my own healing. And that’s what brought me here. What I was really looking for was a trustworthy website where I could share my story, or even just ask a few questions. Somewhere honest and open, without judgment.

My first steps towards a way out

I have to be honest, in the beginning, I found the whole concept of a twin flame…. strange. Hard to believe. I pushed against it. I fought it. If this was supposed to be some sort of sacred soul journey, I didn’t want it. I would’ve gladly taken a different path, one with less pain, less confusion, less heartache.
Because how could this be love?
How could something that hurts this much possibly be called true?

And yet, the more I read, the more I learned about what a twin flame really is, something in me softened. It clicked. I stopped resisting the truth that had been quietly there all along. I knew. Deep down, I had always known.
He was my twin flame. He still is.

The best thing I read was the most simple but powerful: focus on yourself. Not in a selfish way, but in a healing way.
Because I couldn’t keep spinning in this pain without direction. I had to go through it. It was the only way out , through.

There was a way forward. Not around the pain, but through it

Step by step…

I realized there were parts of me still carrying old wounds. Yes, I’d been through therapy in my life. Yes, I’d worked through a lot, especially from a childhood that wasn’t easy. But healing isn’t always linear. Some pain sinks so deep into the subconscious, into the energy body, that it waits, silently, until something wakes it up again. And this connection, this loss, it did exactly that.

It made sense, even if it was painful. In search of more clarity, I reached out to a medium. I needed to know if what I was feeling in my gut was real.
She didn’t just confirm my inner knowing, she validated my experience. And spoke about the exact phase of life I was in, and why this soul had entered my world. She helped me understand the purpose behind our meeting, and the truth about the relationship I was still in.

Grief over my twin flame drove me to despair, But I’m truly grateful to have found a way out. Her words, combined with my own inner work, gave me something I hadn’t felt in a while: strength. A sense that I wasn’t powerless in all of this. There was a way forward. Not around the pain, but through it. And so I took the next step. I booked an appointment with a hypnotherapist, a choice that felt both brave and necessary.

I wanted to reach the places within myself I couldn’t access on my own.
And honestly? I couldn’t wait to begin.
For the first time in a long time, I saw a way out of the madness, not by forgetting him, not by denying the connection, but by reclaiming myself in the process.