October 15, 2026
Lately,
I’ve been bouncing between feeling excited for the future I’m creating and absolutely terrified of the past I’ve consciously left behind.
I’ve been writing a lot about my exes and past partners.
But they aren’t the only things I’m leaving.
I’m also leaving behind the beliefs that kept me imprisoned in my own mind.
I’m leaving behind the version of me that begged for the bare minimum because I didn’t believe I deserved more.
I’m leaving behind the vision of what life was supposed to be.
And… who was supposed to be there with me.
At 36 years young,
I’ve managed to let go of nearly every relationship I once held close.
Every partnership that, at some point or another, held so much value.
It’s scary.
Not the loneliness today, but the question of whether or not this loneliness will last forever.
I rarely hear people talk about this.
About the grief that comes from choosing yourself.
The sadness that comes from establishing boundaries.
The isolation that comes from reevaluating your sense of self.
The fear of loneliness that comes from raising your self-esteem and learning how to uphold your value.
I miss my old life.
It caused me great pain, but at least it was familiar.
I knew exactly what to expect and exactly who to expect it from.
I knew my needs would never be met, so I stopped anticipating their fulfillment. I knew I would face disappointment from the people I held closest to my heart.
I knew I would never receive the reciprocity I deserved. And because I didn’t truly recognize my own worth, I rarely questioned the actions or intentions of others.
I just kept trying.
And trying.
And trying.
I thought love was an uphill battle. Something you fought for. Something you endured.
I believed that if I expressed myself enough, if we had the same arguments enough, if I explained my pain in enough different ways…
Eventually, they would listen.
Eventually, they would understand.
Eventually, they would change.
Eventually, they would love me the way I’d been begging them to.
I genuinely believed that.
I believed that love was something I could earn through endurance. That if I just held on long enough, all the suffering would eventually mean something.
And perhaps that’s the hardest part of letting go.
Realizing that all the trying, all the fighting, all the forgiving, and all the waiting never guaranteed the ending I imagined.
I don’t miss the pain. I don’t miss the heartbreak. I don’t miss the cold, sleepless nights. I don’t miss the fear, the dysregulated nervous system, or the anxious spikes.
But I do miss having someone who wanted to hold me. I miss having friends who wanted to have dinner or travel to a new city. I miss the incoming phone calls, the random texts, and the feeling that someone, somewhere, was thinking of me.
My phone rarely rings these days.
Outside of my immediate family, spam calls, debt collectors, and the occasional promotional text from a company I’ve subscribed to, there isn’t much activity.
Sometimes I laugh about it.
Other times, the silence feels enormous.
I miss the sex.
The intimacy. The shared experiences. The camaraderie.
I miss being part of something, even though, by the end, my spirit was depleted.
And perhaps most painfully…
I miss the lie I told myself.
The lie I lived.
Because that lie brought me comfort.
It gave me hope. It gave me something to believe in.
I believed that love conquered all. That patience would eventually be rewarded. That loyalty would be met with loyalty. That the people I chose would someday choose me with the same conviction.
I believed that if I loved someone unconditionally, eventually they would learn to love me the same way.
I’ve begun questioning that belief. Because somewhere along the way, unconditional love became unconditional endurance.
I overlooked faults. Excused behavior. Forgave what continued to hurt me. I wore rose-colored glasses and called it devotion. And the more I abandoned myself, the more I convinced myself that I was doing what love required.
I don’t believe that anymore. Not because I’ve lost the capacity to love, but because I’ve learned what it costs to offer love at the expense of myself.
I didn’t stop believing in love.
I stopped believing I had to suffer to prove it.
And yet…
Knowing that doesn’t make the loneliness disappear.
It doesn’t make the phone ring. It doesn’t fill the empty spaces where people used to be. It doesn’t replace the future I once imagined.
I don’t know if my tribe will ever find me. Most days, I feel so bruised that I can’t even imagine letting anyone else in.
I want companionship. I want connection. I want to experience love without feeling like I’m fighting to deserve it, but I don’t know what that looks like yet. And at my age, I feel like that’s a gamble my heart isn’t quite ready to make.
So here I am.
Excited about the life I’m creating.
Grieving the life I’ve left behind.
Missing people I know I cannot return to.
Missing beliefs I can no longer bring myself to hold onto.
And learning, perhaps for the first time, that choosing myself doesn’t mean I won’t grieve what I’ve left behind.
Sometimes it means feeling all of it.
And still…
Choosing myself anyway.
~ Jane 3:16
Stay Close.
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