Opinion piece by Barbara Lee
At first, I convinced myself it was nothing. I glanced at my Instagram story viewers and spotted a familiar name — someone from my partner's past. Sure, I knew who she was. But honestly, who hasn't had a weak moment and looked up an ex's new partner? Curiosity is human. It doesn't have to mean anything.
Except her name was there again the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.
After a while, I couldn't scroll through my own story views without my eyes automatically searching for her name. Like a low-level alarm I never set, but couldn't switch off.
I started looking for the problem in myself
Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe this was completely normal. Maybe I was the strange one for finding it unsettling that someone connected to my partner's past was showing up so consistently in my digital space.
But that uneasy feeling slowly shifted into something sharper. Tension. Insecurity. And honestly? A little pettiness too — fine, then watch how happy we are.
With every new story, there was that small, compulsive moment: did she watch this one too? And every time the answer was yes, something tightened inside me.
I started curating what I posted. I caught myself thinking, "is this aimed at her?", "what will she make of this?" Thoughts that had no place in my life began quietly taking up space in it.
It felt like an invisible third presence had moved into my relationship. So what was I supposed to do? Block her? Would that actually fix anything — or would I just spend more time wondering what was driving her? And if I didn't block her, what was I really hoping to find? That her name appearing in a list would eventually reveal something? Tell me something I didn't already know?
Then it hit me: this was never about me
One day, in the middle of all those spinning thoughts, something clicked. What if none of this is actually about me?
What if I don't need to carry any of this — because the real story here is about someone who is still searching for a connection that ended years ago? Someone typing a stranger's name into a search bar, day after day, trying to hold onto something that's already gone. That's not my story. That's hers. And as much as it's worth noticing, it's not mine to fix, decode, or manage.
My life, my relationship, my peace of mind — none of that should become a side effect of someone else's unfinished emotional business.
What I'm choosing now
These days, I try not to scan for her name when I check my story views. I try not to police my own posts with her in mind. I try not to let her presence — or absence — shape what I share with the world.
And when she does cross my mind, I try to land on something simple: I hope she gets whatever she needs to finally move forward.
Because that's the only part of this story I actually have any say in — how I choose to carry it.
