What Grief Looks Like When You're the Other Woman Who Ended It

When most people break up, they grieve what they had. The life, the person, the years. You get to mourn something real, something other people watched happen, something you can talk about at dinner.

When you're the other woman and you're the one who ends it, the grief is a different animal. You're grieving him, yes. But you're also grieving everything you imagined and never got to have. And that part is often the harder one, because you can't even point to a memory. You're mourning a future that never existed.

You end up sad about something that never happened

Here's the strange part. You're not just crying over what was. You're crying over the moving in together that never came. The being introduced to his friends and his family. The going out in the town where he actually lives. The being his plus one at a work event, the running into someone in public and having him say your real name instead of "this is my friend, we know each other from such and such."

All of those moments lived only in your head. You built them, you rehearsed them, you were quietly waiting for them. And when it ends, you grieve them like they were real, because to you they were. It's a genuinely disorienting place to sit: sad about something that never happened.

Why he was never going to be the one to end it

Let's be honest about why you had to be the one to do it.

Why would he end it? He was getting everything he needed from you and it cost him almost nothing. You made him feel a way he hadn't felt in his own marriage in a long time, maybe ever. So even when you fought, even when you picked a fight after a couple glasses of wine because you were frustrated that he still hadn't chosen you, he tolerated it. The friction didn't outweigh what he was getting.

So he wasn't going to leave. You were. You were the one who got strong enough to say this isn't enough anymore. Which means you were the one who had to break your own heart to get your life back.

I broke my own heart

That's the phrase that fits it, and it's mine — a Taylor Swift song, Suburban Legends, is what first put words to it, but the feeling is exactly what ending it felt like. Nobody broke my heart. I did. On purpose. Because it was the only way out.

And that's its own specific kind of grief, because there's no villain to be angry at. You made the choice. You took control back. And you still have to live inside the heartbreak you caused yourself, while going to work, being a mother, a sister, a friend, a daughter, feeling like your heart got pulled out of your chest and stomped on, and doing all of it anyway.

Why no contact isn't optional

I've said it before and I'll keep saying it. When you end it with a married man, no contact is everything.

It's so easy to get pulled back in. It's so easy to lie to yourself and decide you can just be friends. You can't. These relationships get intimate fast. They usually start lustful, you slide into limerence where you're obsessed with each other, and a real friendship grows on top of that. Mine was a real relationship. We traveled together, we talked about everything, he was my best friend and my confidant. He had an all-access pass to my entire life, my mom and dad, my brother, my friends. I know what it was. I also know what it wasn't. Both of those are true, and no contact is how you protect the version of you that finally left.

When love is enough, you think you'll finally be enough

Here's what's underneath all of it. Underneath the waiting for him to choose you is another belief: when the love is finally enough, when he finally looks at me and decides I'm worth changing his life for, then I'll be enough.

You were already enough. You were always enough. Nothing you did in that relationship made you less than enough. The math on affairs is brutal — only a tiny fraction ever work out — and no amount of hanging in there changes those odds. The way out is choosing yourself over him. Loving yourself more than you love him. Breaking your own heart, and trusting that the life waiting on the other side of that pain is better than the one you were putting your whole existence on hold for.

Mine is. I look at the woman I became on the other side of it and I'm obsessed with her. I wouldn't trade this life for the one I was once waiting to be chosen for.

FAQ

Why does grieving an affair feel different from a normal breakup?

Because you're grieving two things at once: the person, and the future you imagined but never got to live. On top of that, many women who were the other woman have very few people they can talk to about it, so they carry the grief privately while keeping up every other responsibility in their life.

What does it mean to grieve something that never happened?

It's mourning the imagined future rather than the actual past. The moving in together, meeting his family, being introduced in public as his partner. Those moments existed only in your mind, and when the relationship ends you grieve their loss as if they were real, because emotionally they were.

Why won't a married man end the affair himself?

Usually because the arrangement costs him very little and gives him a lot. He's getting a version of connection he isn't getting at home, so even conflict doesn't outweigh what he's receiving. That's why the person who ends it is almost always the woman, not the married man.

Why is no contact important after ending it with a married man?

Because these relationships are intense and intimate, and it's easy to get pulled back in or to convince yourself you can stay friends. No contact protects the decision you made and gives the version of you that left the room to actually rebuild.

How do you start to heal after breaking your own heart?

It starts with letting yourself feel the grief instead of rushing past it, and finding at least one person to talk to, whether that's a trusted friend, a therapist, or a coach. From there it's choosing yourself in repeatable ways and trusting that the life on the other side is better than the one you were waiting for.

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Nikki Corbett

About the Author

Nikki Corbett is the host and creator of The Scarlet Edit, a podcast about infidelity, divorce, and starting over. She was the other woman for five years and writes from inside the experiences most people only talk about from the outside. Nikki is a coach working with women rebuilding self-worth after affairs, divorce, and toxic relationships, and she speaks on modern relationships, the other woman experience, and choosing yourself without apology.

https://nikki-corbett.com
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