(Thinking about you, Joanna) How are you holding up? I can only imagine how heavy things must feel right now. I’d love to hear more from you when you’re ready. With care, Anita

Kshitij (email), July 10: Dear Anita, Thank you for your last message, and for so kindly checking on me… A couple of things that happened recently which I would like to share with you — At the very last minute, things seem to have fallen in place for my Phd funding in Oxford, full credit to my supervisor!… It seems I will be staying in Oxford, which to be honest, I did want… My therapist remarked in the last session that I have been living on the edge, and that is how I would like to define myself and my current state. I am always living on the edge, walking on eggshells. My anxiety is terrible… I am not self-diagnosing or anything, but what I am doing right now with rechecking and recalculating feels like pure OCD. An element of self-harm is present even here because I sometimes feel I should punch myself or hurt myself when I think about my mistakes. That is all from me right now. On one hand I am excited about the developments happening recently, but I also get very anxious frequently and end up ruminating. I hope everything is fine with you, and you are doing well! Looking forward to hearing from you. Thanks,
Kshitij
Anita, July 10: So good to read back from you, Kshitij! Will reply tomorrow.
Anita, July 11: Dear Kshitij: Your message holds so much—the joy of promising news, and the weight of an inner struggle that’s clearly exhausting. First, huge congratulations on the PhD funding finally coming through! Oxford is lucky to have you. I hope that offer letter arrives soon and brings with it the kind of reassurance that might help soften the mental noise, even just a little.

I hear how painful the post-exam spiral has been. That inner dialogue—rechecking, recalculating, questioning what could’ve been avoided—it sounds punishing. And the fact that it followed you into what should have been restorative travel speaks volumes about how persistent and invasive the anxiety has become. You’re right: it’s not just worry, it’s fixation. And that takes a toll.

I’m really glad you’re seeking support with your therapist—especially for tomorrow’s emergency session. That’s a courageous step and a vital one. Living “on the edge,” as you described, is unsustainable. You deserve peace in your body, your mind, and your daily life.

There’s so much you’re carrying: the academic pressure, the invisible weight of internal standards, and a mind that’s been trained to keep scanning for what might go wrong. But I also see someone who’s self-aware, thoughtful, and actively reaching toward clarity. That matters.

You aren’t alone in this, and you aren’t broken. You’re a brilliant, sensitive human navigating high-stakes terrain with real insight. Please keep speaking to the people who hold space for you. You deserve care, compassion, and inner quiet.

And I’m here, always. 🤍

Warmly, Anita

Dear Alecsee:

It seems like she was trying to have a serious, emotionally focused conversation, and hoped you’d meet her with full attention. When you got distracted, sent photos, or responded without staying present, she felt dismissed—like the relationship’s patterns weren’t changing.

She expressed that your life approaches are fundamentally different: she wants structure and clarity, while you tend to be spontaneous and fluid. That mismatch has been wearing her down, and she reached a breaking point emotionally.

Your tiredness and emotional response weren’t wrong—they were human. But she didn’t feel understood in that moment, and it reinforced her belief that you two don’t connect in the ways she needs.

Her staying on the phone afterward may mean she wasn’t fully closed off yet—but the hurt runs deep. You’re right: this isn’t about one moment. It’s about a repeated cycle. And now’s the time to ask what kind of connection actually fits who you are and how you love.

Let me know if you want help writing something that’s sincere and steady.

Anita

Dear Alecsee:

It’s been a while since your message—just wondering, did you end up sending her the romantic songs? If so, how did that go? And if you haven’t yet, maybe this is a chance to pause and check in with yourself before reaching out again.

From all that you’ve shared, it’s clear you care deeply. You and your girlfriend did connect in some ways—but emotionally, you often reached for each other and didn’t land in the same place.

You reached out with warmth, humor, and small gestures—like pictures or playful texts. That was your way of showing love. But how it landed for her was different—it felt like you weren’t fully present, or were avoiding serious conversations. Meanwhile, she reached out with directness, wanting deep, real-time emotional engagement. But when that landed on your side, it felt heavy or like pressure.

Relationships can really suffer when each person is speaking from the heart, but their message lands in an unexpected way. It’s not just about the intent behind what we send—it’s also about how it’s received. That’s why emotional misalignment hurts so much.

Couples need to talk about what they mean when they reach out, and also how those messages are received. Understanding each other’s intent is important, but just as important is noticing how those words or gestures land emotionally for the other person. That’s how real emotional clarity begins.

About the songs: if you’ve already sent them, I understand why. You’re trying to express care in the language you know best. But if she’s pulling away, it may feel more like pressure to her than tenderness. Even beautiful gestures can cross emotional boundaries if someone isn’t ready to receive them. That’s the hard part—knowing when love needs to shift into quiet respect.

What might serve both of you better is a short, sincere message. Something like:

“I care about you, and I’m sorry things ended this way. I’m letting go with respect, and I wish you peace moving forward.”

It says what matters. It honors your heart, and it allows her space.

Also, please take care of yourself, especially now. Breakups can trigger deep fears—especially the kind tied to abandonment. If you’re feeling anxious or unsettled, try small things to ground yourself: breathe slowly, write down your thoughts, talk to someone you trust, even sit with music that calms you rather than stirs things up. You’re not just grieving the relationship—you’re tending to old wounds too. And that takes gentleness.

Can I ask honestly, Alecsee—do you truly want to end this relationship, or are you still hoping to rebuild it somehow? 🤍

Anita

Hi Alecsee:

Thanks for sharing all that. I can feel how deeply this situation is affecting you—and how much your heart is in it. It sounds like the relationship stirred up some really big emotions, ones that may reach all the way back to earlier times, when Alecsee-the-boy was left alone just when he needed someone, misunderstood, or criticized. That kind of pain runs deep.

What might help most right now is taking a little time to settle your emotions—before trying to fix things or explain more. When we’re calmer, we can think more clearly and choose words that build connection rather than confusion.

You’ve said you regret how things unfolded, and I believe that. That’s already a first step. Now maybe ask yourself: what patterns are repeating here? What kind of support do I need to move through this, even if the relationship doesn’t go the way I hope?

I think there’s a lot of strength in you. Even just being able to name all this shows insight. And I’m here if you want to keep talking it through—one small, steady step at a time 🤍

With care, Anita

Hi Alecsee:

Thank you for sharing so openly. Your words carry so much weight—grief, longing, and a deep desire to make sense of what happened. I hear how much this relationship meant to you, and how hard it is to sit with the feeling that you came so close to something meaningful, only to watch it slip away.

There’s a theme that runs through your message that I want to gently name: fear of abandonment. It shows up in so many of the patterns you described:

* The feeling of being cursed—or doomed to be alone—just as something meaningful seems within reach, only to fall apart at the last moment.

* The urge to go “all in,” sending messages and videos, hoping to preserve the connection before it disappears.

* The anxiety about her silence and the possibility that she might move on without telling you.

* The regret and self-blame—believing that if you’d just been calmer, more in control, maybe you could’ve saved it.

* The hyper-analysis of your decisions, and the fear that emotional reactions have cost you something permanent.

These are all signs of someone who’s been hurt before—someone who’s learned that closeness can be unpredictable, and that love might vanish without warning. That kind of fear can make us cling harder, speak louder, or act out of desperation—not because we’re irrational, but because we’re scared of being left behind.

I just happened to watch a video this morning, one that speaks directly to this. It’s called The Fear of Abandonment: How it Can Push People Away by Tim Fletcher. He talks about how abandonment wounds can lead us to act in ways that unintentionally create the very distance we fear. He also offers insight into how healing begins—with self-awareness, inner work, and learning to build a relationship with ourselves.

You’re already doing some of that work. You’re reflecting, naming your patterns, and trying to stay grounded. That matters. And even if this relationship doesn’t mend, your healing doesn’t end here. You’re not cursed—you’re human, and you’re learning.

🤍 Anita

Hey Alecsee, I imagine her message brought up a lot of feelings, especially after everything that’s happened. It sounds like she’s asking for some time and space to think things through.

Did you send her a reply? What did you say?

I know it’s hard to stay quiet when you want answers or connection. But sometimes being calm and giving space helps more than pushing for quick fixes. How are you feeling about it all?

Anita