There is no unhappiness like the despair of choosing the wrong person.
This kind of gut-emptying unhappiness grows like bacteria in a petri dish set on a hospital window-ledge – everything we touch aligns to force the fact of our poor decision squarely in our face. It’s brutal. There’s no escaping the self-recrimination, and every other kind of recrimination too.
Why did we find that person worthy of our energy? Why did we overlook the glaring shortcomings? What the HECK was I doing ignoring all the telltale signs of incompatibility? Why did I donate my heart only to be reward with heartache?
Fear not, you aren’t the first. (Like that’s any kind of salve.) Be comforted by this; that you aren’t the relationship pro you thought you were, and amateurs always make mistakes. Beginners’ luck is fun, but nothing beats acquiring a few skills and some knowledge.