#permission

AIO - Boyfriend lives in my apartment without my permission

My boyfriend is living in my flat without my permission. He rents out his own flat, which is about 60 km away from mine. He isn’t working. Our days go like this: in the morning I get up, go to work, he picks me up from work, we go shopping, make dinner, watch TV and go to bed. The next day, the cycle repeats itself, and so on throughout the week. At the weekends, we go out to see friends or to a restaurant. I need at least one day a week to be on my own. He argues that I’m at work without him anyway (for 8 hours) and accuses me of not wanting to spend time with him; he’s getting on my nerves. Am I overreacting? Is it normal to see each other every day at my flat after 7 months in a relationship? Out of simple courtesy, shouldn’t we go ‘back to our own place’ once in a while?

We are fighting about this every week when it’s my “free” day. So I am spending it fighting by texts and calls when it’s finally over the next day he’s picking me up from work and the cycle repeats itself.

Reddit consensus: NOT OVERREACTING (NOR) (98% confidence)

Top comment: “Is he paying rent? Why is he living there if you have not given permission? If he rented his place out you must have been aware of his plan.

Why do you let this hobosexual bulldoze your boundaries? You are under reacting.”

Notable explanation: “NOR - Even if you were married and living together consentually, you have the right to wanting time alone. My older sister had a clingy boyfriend that would have been happy to live in a single room with her, just the two of them, for eternity, no internet, just them. She normally likes several hours alone to herself daily, so the fact that he was glued to her side was a constant source of stress for her. He also couldn't let her listen to ONE song on her headphones without interrupting her and feeling excluded.

Your dude sounds so clingy it makes my skin crawl. Having "time away from him" while you are at work doesn't count. You aren't relaxing, unwinding, and getting grounded at work. You're working. Coming home to be able to just read a book or dance naked in your living room if you want is important. Especially if you're an introvert, and need that quiet time to recharge.

I find it concerning that he is dismissing your wants and needs for his own. It's also concerning that he is living with you unofficially 7 months in, and can't understand that you want a day to yourself, or time to yourself. That if you do choose to have a day to yourself, he ruins it by texting and calling until the day is over, thus making it a non-viable way anyway.

My first thought is: it's only 7 months: is this what you really want? If he won't change and let you breathe, can you be happy? Me second is: he knows he's ruining that day for you, and he doesn't care. He wants what he wants and your needs don't matter. This is not someone I would consider a safe person.”

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now i am back 🙈 sorry but I have to start working 🙈 buuuuut i wait and stop the edging 🙈

so on a table yes? 🥺 and normal? 😱😍

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Some of you are looking for one defining moment, something that will tell you that you no longer need the old identity.

Almost as if you're waiting for permission to let go of the old skin before you can fully step into the new one.

Most people think closure is something another person gives them.

An explanation. An apology. An acknowledgment.

One final conversation that makes everything make sense.

But what most people call closure is actually resolution.

And let's be honest. Most of you don't actually want closure. Not really.

Because if you did, you'd stop replaying the same conversations, the same narratives, the same "what ifs" in your head.

You'd stop scrolling through the old texts, the old pictures, the old reminders of someone who doesn't even exist anymore.

Closure isn't about anything external. It's about you.

And honestly? You don't want it because you like the story you're telling yourself.

You like the sense of injustice, the sense that someone owes you an explanation, an apology, an acknowledgment.

Even if that someone is you.

That feeling—being wronged—is addictive.

It makes you feel justified.

It gives you something to chew on, something to rehearse endlessly in your head, and that's comfortable.

You don't want closure because if you got it, you'd have to stop existing in that mental space.

You'd have to take responsibility for your own peace instead of blaming someone else for your unrest.

You'd have to admit that the control you think they have over your happiness is a lie you've been feeding yourself.

The uncomfortable truth is that closure is often disappointing.

We imagine that one conversation, one apology, or one explanation will finally set us free.

But even when people get those things, many discover the pain remains.

Because the real problem was never the missing information. It was the attachment to needing it.

Closure isn't a package anyone hands to you.

It's a choice you make.

A decision to stop letting the past dictate your present.

To stop letting someone else's behavior—or their assumptions—define your reality.

Maybe that's why closure feels so difficult.

It's rarely about getting an answer.

It's about accepting that no one is coming to give you permission to become someone new.

You've been waiting for a conversation, an epiphany, an explanation, a sign.

But the identity shift you're waiting for can happen before any of those things arrive.

Sometimes moving on is simply deciding that the old story no longer gets a vote in who you become next or who you currently are.

You'll keep saying you want it. But until you're willing to stop needing them to say or do something, until you're willing to look at yourself and say, "I'm done waiting. I'm done needing," you'll never actually get it.

And that's fine.

The first step is just realizing it.

You don't want closure. You want your story to make sense, the way your brain keeps insisting it should. That's human.

But here's the kicker:

You can have peace without closure.

You can move forward without answers.

You can heal without an apology.

You can let go without understanding every detail of what happened.

Peace begins when you stop waiting for the past to become different.

Closure starts the moment you stop making your healing dependent on someone else's participation.

You don't need anyone else's permission to move on.