I thought I was fixing him until I realized he was using me

I thought I was the only one who could save him. That was the story I told myself for months. I visited him three times over a period of two to three months, driving the distance to be with a man who claimed to be falling apart. I brought him food, I listened to his complaints, and I tried to help him navigate a life that seemed to be crumbling around him. I didn't realize then that I wasn't a partner; I was a resource.

At the beginning, it felt like a rescue mission. He had been terminated from a design firm, his unemployment benefits were running out, and his family was staging an intervention regarding his behavior. He had a chronic illness that he used to justify rude behavior and long silences. When he was sick, he would withdraw, and I would feel guilty for wanting to talk. I thought his illness was the reason he was so difficult, not the excuse he used to avoid accountability.

I realized I had been treating him like a project to fix, while he viewed me only as a source of housing, entertainment, and a place to hide his lies.

The first cracks appeared in the details he couldn't keep straight. He claimed his roommate was a stranger, but when I pressed him, he revealed the man was actually his father. He lied about his living arrangements, telling me he didn't own a car, only to admit later that his father owned it. He spoke negatively about my sister to my face, even though she was my best friend and the one person who had questioned the relationship from the start. He mixed negative criticism with jokes, confusing me so that I couldn't tell if he was serious or just teasing. I found myself constantly explaining myself, trying to make sense of a reality that kept shifting.

He nagged me about not making music or getting a degree, projecting his own failures onto me. I was the one who was supposed to be the success story, the one who could pull him up. But when I tried to play the flute or talk about my own life, he would shut it down. He used his health issues to justify his rudeness, and I felt manipulated by his constant need for attention. I felt confused by his hypocrisy. He would tell me he loved me, then refuse to visit my apartment, calling it disgusting. He would pretend to enjoy outings with me, only to use them for attention and sex.

The turning point wasn't a grand explosion. It was a series of small, undeniable lies that I finally stopped ignoring. He admitted to cheating with a woman he met at a bar. He admitted to it while getting dressed for a date, as if it were a casual confession. I realized then that his world was crumbling because of his own actions, not because of bad luck or his illness. He didn't see me as a genuine partner; he saw me as a place to hide his lies and a source of entertainment.

I fell apart. I felt completely crushed. I experienced confusion and heartbreak that stopped me from working. I took a one-month mental health break from my job because I couldn't function. I researched content about narcissist abuse on TikTok and YouTube, listening to Dr. Romney and Narcissist Apocalypse content. I tried to understand why he treated me so poorly despite my own chronic illness. I questioned why he wanted me to call him, and I was unsure if he truly loved me. I had dark, intrusive thoughts about fixing the relationship, but I knew deep down that I was the one who needed to be fixed.

The final straw came after a phone call. The first call had lasted two and a half hours, filled with laughter. The next day, the second call was rushed and stone cold. He unhearted a message I sent later that week instead of responding. He refused to visit my apartment, calling it disgusting. He lied about his sister and his car. I realized his personality traits were a mask. He was not a broken man I could fix; he was a man who was using me.

I realized I had been viewing him as a project to fix. I recognized that he did not see me as a genuine partner. I decided not to participate in his harmful behavior anymore. I advised myself to take emotions out to assess reality. I understood that his family had tried to intervene, and he had refused to attend after the time changed. He had lied about his living situation, and I had believed him. I knew his grandfather had passed away shortly before the relationship ended, but that didn't change the fact that he was using me.

Looking back, I see that I was in an emotionally abusive relationship. I thought his illness was the problem, but it was his character. I didn't realize how much of myself I had given up. I wish someone had told me that I wasn't the one who needed to be fixed. I wish someone had told me that his lies were not my fault. I wish someone had told me that I was not a project. I am no longer trying to fix him. I am just trying to heal myself.