The Illusion of Togetherness: When an Ex Clings to a False Narrative

Hello, dear readers. It’s Meghann here. On this reflective afternoon of July 20, 2025, I’m compelled to share a part of my ongoing reality that’s as confusing as it is isolating. Years after our divorce, my ex still texts me daily with messages like “good morning” and “I love you,” as if nothing has changed. Even though I receive screenshots of messages to other women almost daily with his disdain for me and how much he loves them or how beautiful they are. He tells our community he’s married, continues to wear his wedding ring, and in his public racing life, thanks his “wife and children” when he wins. This crafted image makes me look like the liar when I correct people—“No, we’re divorced”—leaving me feeling like the crazy one. It’s why I often hide from the world, retreating to the safety of my home and my words here. If you’ve ever had your truth questioned by someone else’s facade, know this post is a nod to that shared struggle.

The texts arrive like clockwork, a digital echo of a life long gone. “Good morning, beautiful,” or “I love you, have a great day”—phrases that once might have warmed me but now feel like chains, pulling me back into doubt. Why does he do this? Did he ever love me? I waited years on empty promises of change that never came. It’s not lingering affection; it’s control, a way to blur the lines and maintain his narrative. In our small northern Minnesota town, where racing is his stage, he portrays himself as the devoted family man. When he crosses the finish line and shouts out gratitude to his “wife and kids,” the crowd cheers, unaware that we’re no longer together, that his “family” time is sporadic at best. He wears that ring like a badge, telling locals he’s happily married, reinforcing the image of stability while ignoring the reality of our split.

This disconnect turns me into the outlier. When I say, “Actually, we’re divorced,” eyes narrow with skepticism. “But he just mentioned his wife at the race,” or “He still wears the ring—must be working things out.” Suddenly, I’m the one who seems unstable, the bitter ex fabricating stories. His public persona—the charismatic racer thanking his loved ones—clashes with my truth, making me look like the problem. It’s gaslighting on a community scale, where his version overshadows mine, leaving me isolated. Why speak up when it invites judgment? So, I hide: avoiding town events, limiting outings, retreating to my home health care agency work and time with my four incredible kids. The world feels unsafe, full of whispers that echo his family’s old narrative painting me as the villain.

But in this hiding, I’m finding my voice here. These daily texts and public declarations aren’t love; they’re a refusal to let go of the control he once held. They keep the illusion alive, protecting his ego at my expense. Therapy helps me see it clearly, reminding me that my truth stands firm, ring or no ring. To those in similar binds, hold your ground—your story matters, even if it’s drowned out by the noise.

Thank you for reading. More reflections to come.

With warmth and strength,

Meghann