It was incredibly devastating. I will never forget it.
He was beautiful. Truly beautiful. I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. He was my absolute everything, but he was terribly insecure.
He never told me why he broke up with me. I remember it so well, so vividly. The way I felt and the look on his face as he left.
The day I lost my dignity was in the same week he had mentioned getting a place together. He came to mine and was meant to be staying over. I'd bought wine, lit candles and turned my shoddy, dirty, old fashioned bedsit into a complete, romantic dream. I'd even repainted and had the landlord replace the carpet. It was perfect.
He came in and sat down. I don't know if he was behaving strangely when he got there or not. I was too busy getting ready to, after nearly a year together, finally tell him that I was in love with him. It wasn't until I shut my face and actually looked at him I realised something was wrong. He was staring at my hand and stroking it. I had a beautiful, deep red nail varnish on. I remember it because it makes me feel sick to see it to this day. I asked him if he was OK. He refused to answer and the realisation that he was ending it hit me.
I was floored, literally. He got up to leave and I held on to him. He had to drag himself away. I clung onto his leg. He had to push me back through the door, rather forcefully, into my house.
I lost myself for the next 3 years. It took therapy and a lot of medication to get myself back.
He never actually said the words "I am leaving you". I asked him a few weeks later to give me closure and he refused.
I hope you are okay OP. My best advice would be to go with it, but surround yourself with people. 