I did a "relationship autopsy" on my last failed relationship and found out I killed it

After my last relationship ended, I spent weeks analyzing what went wrong, replaying conversations, tallying up my ex's mistakes.

It felt productive. It felt like healing.

But deep down, I knew I was avoiding something more uncomfortable: the role I played in the slow collapse of something that once felt so promising.

So I did what any semi-masochistic person would do. I conducted a full relationship autopsy, examining every pattern, every choice, every moment where I could have shown up differently.

The findings? Brutal. Necessary. And honestly, more about me than I wanted to admit.

1. I was emotionally unavailable without realizing it

Here's the thing about emotional unavailability: it doesn't always look like stonewalling or refusing to open up.

Sometimes it looks like being perfectly pleasant on the surface while keeping your real feelings locked away.

I thought I was being open because I showed up for dates, answered texts promptly, and said "I love you" when expected. But when it came to actual vulnerability? I was nowhere to be found.

When my partner asked how I was really doing, I'd deflect with humor or change the subject. When they shared something difficult, I'd offer solutions instead of just listening. I kept them at arm's length without even realizing I was doing it.

According to research on relationship self-sabotage, staying emotionally unavailable is often a defense mechanism rooted in fear of getting hurt.

The cruel irony? By protecting myself from potential pain, I guaranteed the very outcome I was trying to avoid.

2. I kept score instead of keeping connection

I was the accountant in our relationship, mentally tallying every perceived slight, every forgotten anniversary, every time they canceled plans.

My mental ledger was always open, always calculating who owed whom more effort, more apology, more change.

This scorekeeping meant I entered every disagreement with ammunition already loaded. Instead of addressing issues as they arose, I'd store them up and unleash them all at once during arguments.

The problem with keeping score is that it turns your partner into an adversary rather than a teammate. You're so busy tracking who's winning that you forget you're supposed to be on the same side.

When I finally looked at my behavior honestly, I realized I'd been more focused on being right than on building something that could last.

3. I communicated through hints instead of honesty

I pride myself on being direct in most areas of my life, but in relationships? I became a master of subtle signals and passive suggestions.

Instead of saying "I need more quality time together," I'd make comments about how other couples seemed so connected. Instead of expressing hurt, I'd go quiet and expect them to figure out what was wrong.

I told myself I was being considerate by not "making demands." But really, I was setting my partner up to fail by refusing to clearly communicate my needs.

As psychologist Esther Perel notes in her work on accountability in relationships, trading out "you made me feel" for "I felt rejected when" makes all the difference in how we take ownership of our experience.

The truth is, expecting someone to read your mind isn't romantic or intuitive. It's unfair, and it's exhausting for everyone involved.

4. I picked fights to avoid intimacy

This one was hard to admit, but the pattern was undeniable once I saw it.

Whenever we got too close, whenever things felt too good, I'd find something to pick apart. A tone of voice. A forgotten task. Some minor annoyance that I'd blow up into a relationship-defining issue.

At the time, I convinced myself these were legitimate concerns. But looking back, the timing was too consistent to ignore.

Research shows that people who grew up in unstable environments often unconsciously sabotage relationships when things get too comfortable, because chaos feels more familiar than peace.

I realized I was more comfortable with conflict than with the vulnerability that comes with genuine intimacy. Fighting gave me distance. Closeness required trust I wasn't ready to give.

5. I refused to take responsibility for my part

When problems came up, my default response was defensiveness.

I'd focus on their contribution to the issue, justify my behavior with context, or deflect by bringing up something they'd done wrong last week.

Taking accountability felt like losing an argument. Like admitting I was the problem.

But chronic defensiveness is actually a predictor of relationship failure. My partner would try to discuss concerns, and I'd turn it into a debate about who was more wrong.

Real accountability doesn't mean shouldering all the blame. It means being willing to say "I see how my actions affected you, and I'm sorry" without adding a "but" at the end.

6. I compared our relationship to everyone else's highlight reel

Ever scroll through Instagram and feel like your relationship is somehow falling short?

That was me. I'd see perfectly curated couple photos and grand romantic gestures, then look at my own relationship and find it lacking. We didn't post enough. We weren't adventurous enough. Our daily life felt mundane compared to everyone else's edited version of reality.

I'd make comments about how other couples traveled more or seemed more passionate. I didn't realize I was essentially telling my partner they weren't enough because they didn't match up to people's Instagram personas.

This constant comparison poisoned what could have been contentment with what we actually had.

7. I held onto past hurt instead of healing from it

Every argument became a historical documentary where I'd bring up things from months or even years ago.

They'd apologize for something current, and I'd respond with "Yeah, well remember when you..." as if no amount of time or growth could erase previous mistakes.

I thought I was protecting myself by never fully letting go of past hurts. But really, I was building a wall between us, brick by bitter brick.

According to researchers who study relationship sabotage patterns, difficulty trusting often stems from past experiences of betrayal and creates a self-fulfilling prophecy of relationship failure.

My partner was constantly paying for crimes already served. It's impossible to build a future when you're forever stuck in the past.

8. I waited for them to change instead of working on myself

I had a mental list of all the ways my partner needed to improve. If only they were more affectionate. If only they were better at planning.

Meanwhile, when they gently suggested areas where I could grow? Defensiveness, deflection, or dismissal.

I convinced myself that if they would just change, everything would be perfect. I failed to recognize that I was holding up a mirror to them while refusing to look at my own reflection.

The uncomfortable truth? I expected growth from them that I wasn't willing to pursue for myself.

Final thoughts

Here's what I learned from my relationship autopsy: the common denominator in all my failed relationships isn't bad luck or incompatible partners.

It's me.

That sounds harsh, but it's actually liberating. If my patterns are the problem, then I have the power to change them.

I'm not sharing this as a complete success story. I'm still working on these patterns, still catching myself falling into old habits. But awareness is the first step toward change.

If you're reading this and recognizing yourself, I encourage you to do your own relationship autopsy. Not to torture yourself with guilt, but to understand your patterns clearly enough to break them.

Because the truth is, we can't change our past relationships, but we can choose to show up differently in future ones.