Hey guys! I know this isn’t ocd related... but I’m in a pickle. A love pickle. And I need help. Long story short, my boyfriend and I broke up a week ago. We’d been dating for only 5 months, but we were friends for much longer. The breakup was mutual, and likely caused by his depression and my ocd and anxiety. Together, it put us in a really difficult time where he needed space, and I needed attention. Unfortunately, those two things didn’t go well together at the same time. Before we broke it off, I was in a really bad place. I had an extremely low opinion of myself and was starting to cut myself. It’s been one of the most challenging things I’ve gone through, and I felt horrible subjecting him to all of it. So we broke up. His reasoning was that he was extremely depressed and wanted to be alone, and that he didn’t know if he had the ability to be in a relationship right now, and to give me what I needed. Mine was similar. I wanted to work it out, but ultimately I understood that I needed to figure out what was going on with me, and that it was unfair to him to continue the pressure that was accumulating. We both still care a lot about each other, and have a lot of mutual friends. When we were together, it was the most beautiful relationship I’d ever been in. I’d never known what it was like to be in love with your best friend until this. (For all you mbti geeks out there, he was an intp and I’m an infj). We had our first kiss on our college football field in the middle of the night. He convinced me to break in with him. He was the one person who could get me to let loose (and because you all have ocd too, you understand how hard that can be sometimes). He was the one who made me reevaluate the way I saw the world. The one who made me think. The one who made me laugh. He’d never disrespect me, and never thought that my ideas were crazy. But the timing... I think the timing was wrong. If he hadn’t broken it off, I don’t think I would’ve realized that I didn’t love myself. I went to extra therapy sessions in the past week. I plan on going to group therapy. I plan on increasing the frequency I attend therapy. I met with some of our mutual friends this week. It was the first time I’d realized I’d been paranoid that they hated me, when they really do love me. (I had a lot of bullying from a roommate that was also a mutual friend, which caused my mental health to plummet, ultimately ushering the end to my relationship). I realized I want to love myself again. And then, another thing hit me. I was still in love with my ex. And it wasn’t the begging, pleading, desperate “love” so many people go through when they first break up with someone. I was looking online, trying to find some way to get over it, trying to find some ways to cope— And then I saw something that dug a pit so deep in my stomach that it absolutely terrified me. Just one sentence. “If you really love someone, you want the best for them, even if what’s best for them means being away from you.” And I did. My last ex, I screamed and begged and cried and tried everything to win him back. Last time, I was desperate. This time, I was patient. I texted him to thank him for the relationship. He texted me back reciprocating. Maybe it’s just the breakup feels getting to me... but I started to feel this conviction that this whole thing wasn’t right. I mean, that was my best friend. We still have so much care for each other, even if we can’t give it right now. He agreed to meet me for dinner on Monday night. I’m freaking out. Originally my plan was to figure out boundaries around mutual friends. But now... all I can think is that maybe we can start over. In the last week, I made the commitment that I will never stoop so low to hate myself again. I want to love myself. I want to love my life. I’d been trapped inside myself, using him as a crutch—and I don’t want that anymore. I want to start again. As best friends. Showing him the me that I should’ve been when we were together. The me that plans on working in D.C., advocating for environmental protection. The me that wants to give kindness in every corner. The me that I lost when my roommate started to bully me. But god, guys... I’m so scared. I’m terrified. This dinner could be the final thing that pushes him away if I don’t play it right. It’s not even that I want our relationship back. It wasn’t healthy. But I want to start over. I want to meet him all over again, and I want to get better. I still love him, in a way I don’t think I’d ever expected. But I’m terrified that he will resent me for wanting to starting over, which implies that I’d inevitably love to try a relationship again some day. What in the hell do I do?