I cheated. I left someone who loved me for someone else. And for a long time, I hated myself for it.

Not because I got caught, but because I *saw* the damage I did. The trust I shattered. The way I made someone question their worth, when the truth was—I was the broken one.

I didn’t cheat because my partner wasn’t enough. She was kind, loyal, and gave everything she had. I cheated because *I* didn’t feel enough. I was emotionally immature, uncomfortable with vulnerability, and instead of facing our problems, I escaped into a new connection that made me feel temporarily seen, wanted, powerful.

Cheating felt like a shortcut to a version of myself I didn’t know how to become honestly. And for a moment, it worked. But then the shame came—and the realization that I had hurt someone who only wanted to love me.

To those who’ve been cheated on: It wasn’t your fault. You were *not* lacking. Often, cheating is about the cheater running from themselves, not running from you. And I hope you never carry someone else’s wounds as your own reflection.

To those who’ve cheated: You are still worthy of redemption. You have to own what you did, without minimizing it. Sit with the pain you caused. Learn to stop seeing people as escape hatches from your own discomfort. Only then can you begin to change.

I’m not proud of what I did. But I’ve done the work since then. Therapy. Hard conversations. Sitting in the fire instead of fleeing it. I’ve learned how to love with presence instead of performance. I’ve learned how to *stay.*

No one should be defined by their worst moment forever. But we do have to let that moment shape who we become next.