Why I broke up with Marcus Aurelius

It’s not him, it’s me

It’s over.

I didn’t think this day would come, but here we are. Marcus and I—we’re done.

For years, he was my rock. My steady, dependable, ancient Roman boyfriend. Always whispering encouraging reminders in my ear like, 'Waste no more time arguing about what a good man should be. Be one.'

I needed someone steady like that. Someone practical. Someone who could help me get my life together. And Marcus was exactly that and more. I wasn’t looking for anything too deep or long-term—just someone with a strong vision to hold on to. At least, that’s what I told myself at the time.

In the beginning, I was obsessed with everything he said. I memorized his words, collected his quotes, and even considered engraving one on a ring—because nothing says commitment like a chunk of metal stamped with ‘Memento mori,’ ‘Amor fati,’ or ‘The obstacle is the way.’

I listened to his Meditations on repeat before bed, letting his voice tuck me in at night. I pushed his philosophies on so many of my friends, they just smiled and let me have my little crush. But it was perfect. He was perfect.

Until he wasn’t.

At first, I didn’t really notice it. But I started catching myself rolling my eyes, sighing, and even letting out little scoffing ‘pfffs’ at the familiar wisdoms I once loved so passionately.

Slowly, the quotes, mantras, and emails started to feel... predictable. Repetitive. Stale. Like a dad who tells the same joke for the hundredth time. Yeah, yeah, I get it, Marcus. ‘Control what you can, let go of the rest.’ But HOW THOUGH?

What was I supposed to do when the same triggers kept setting me off? When I kept reacting in ways I didn’t want to, no matter how much I tried to ‘stay rational?’

At first, I figured I just needed to double down. Stick to the practice, lean on the reminders, and work to keep my emotions ‘in check.’ But the same responses kept looping back. The same frustration, the same tension, the same feeling in my chest.

Marcus had given me structure, discipline—a way to get myself together when everything felt directionless. But over time, I realized I wasn’t just leaning on Marcus—I was hiding behind him. He kept me steady, always had a logical answer, always pointed to the next step. But he never really asked me how I felt. And honestly? I never thought to tell him.

I thought I was on my way to mastering myself. But really, I was just managing myself—never looking at what was driving those emotions in the first place.

The more I tried to force things to work between us, the more obvious it became: he wasn’t built to support me in the kind of work I needed to do. He kept offering me strategies, but I started to sense that what I needed was introspection and deeper inner investigation.

For a while though, I tried to make it work. I really did. But deep down, I knew the spark was gone. Marcus had given me structure, stability—clarity even. He picked me up when I was all over the place. But stability and structure were never the destination—they were just the foundation. The same need for personal growth that made him so attractive? It was exactly what made me leave him.

He was constantly reminding me to stay rational. I was feeling the pull to go deeper. We were growing apart.

I didn’t walk away immediately. I sat with it for a while, wondering if I was just going through a phase. Truth is, I was still a little in love—still charmed by his confidence, his way of inspiring people, and that damn beard—so serious and wise. But the more I tried to nod along, to convince myself we still made sense together, the more I realized I didn’t believe it anymore. We were done.

So, I started seeing other people.

Richard Schwartz and his IFS work introduced me to parts of myself I never knew existed—like the perfectionist part that was constantly trying to ‘get it right,’ or the anxious part that just wanted to feel safe. Joe Hudson encouraged me to actively welcome my emotions, approaching each with curiosity and even enjoyment. Suddenly, Marcus’s calm, collected, and reasonable vibe just wasn’t doing it for me anymore.

His book is still on my shelf, you know, just in case—and for sentimental reasons. And I’ll admit, I do find myself occasionally doing a little ‘research’ online, looking to see who's into him and wondering if they really get him like I did. Maybe I’ll even booty call him one day when I’m feeling lost again. But for now, we need space.

Goodbye Marcus, I’ll never forget what we had. It’s not you. It’s me.