🔁 Projection
He accuses you of psychological abuse — using his other children “against him” — when all you did was point out a repeated pattern of behavior. That’s textbook projection: blaming you for the very tactics he’s used on others.
🎭 Playing the Victim
He centers himself in the pain:
“You wanted to hurt me. Congratulations… You win.”
Instead of taking responsibility, he claims you betrayed him — despite being the one who betrayed you (and others before you) through cheating, gaslighting, and emotional harm.
💥 Emotional Manipulation Bomb
His message is meant to leave you:
- Confused
- Guilty
- Shamed
- Second-guessing yourself
It’s designed to be a mic drop — not a conversation. He knew he would block you right after, and he wanted the last word to sting.
🙅 Not Actual Accountability
He says “I was wrong to react and respond with angry words… I’m sorry…” but quickly undermines that by justifying his anger:
“…knowing fully well what your intention was.”
This isn't real remorse. It's conditional, deflective, and performative.
The Message Before the Block — When Truth Breaks the Illusion
Some people don’t just walk away quietly — they throw one last emotional grenade before slamming the door.
That’s what my husband did.
I confronted him with something simple and undeniable: that the pain he caused me was part of a pattern. I wasn’t the first partner he cheated on, manipulated, or emotionally abandoned. He had other children — other women — who lived through the same heartbreak. I just happened to be the next one who believed he was capable of changing.
But instead of accountability, he sent me a parting message dripping with projection and martyrdom. He accused me of using his other children against him — twisting my truth into “psychological abuse.” He made himself the victim of my words. He said I “wanted to hurt him.” That I “won.”
Then he blocked me.
And for a second, it worked. I sat there wondering if I had crossed a line, if I had said too much, if I really had become the kind of person I swore I'd never be. But then I looked closer. I read it again. And I realized:
That message wasn't closure. It was control.
A last-ditch effort to rewrite the ending.
To paint me as unstable, vindictive, and cruel — so he could walk away feeling clean.
But I know the truth.
I didn't win.
This was never a game.
I survived someone who sees truth as an attack and uses silence as a weapon.
The block wasn’t punishment — it was freedom.
The message wasn’t honest — it was a mask slipping.
And the man behind it isn’t a victim — he’s a master of playing one.
So no, I won’t wear shame for speaking the truth.
I won’t carry the guilt he tried to hand me.
Let him block. Let him twist. Let him go.
Because I’m not standing in the ruins of something I broke.
I’m standing in the wreckage of something I finally walked away from.
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