A short lived observation — not fully formed, but alive.
What I’m Noticing
There’s a strange comfort in believing everything that falls apart is our fault.
Because if we caused the collapse, then we could have stopped it. There’s control in self-blame. A narrative that says:
“If I had tried harder… if I were better… if I had seen it sooner…”
But real life doesn’t work like that.
We don’t get to control other people’s readiness, their capacity for love, or the wounds they’re still protecting. The only thing we ever truly control is our participation — the choice to stay, or the courage to walk away.
And sometimes we stay longer than is good for us.
Not because we’re weak — but because we’re hopeful.
When the moment finally comes to withdraw, it hurts.
It feels like losing.
It feels like giving up.
It feels like all that time was wasted.
But time isn’t wasted when it changes who you are.
Why I Think It Matters
Those relationships — even the ones that ended in heartbreak — taught me something vital:
- What I need
- What I deserve
- What I can’t tolerate anymore
Walking away was not a failure.
It was a decision rooted in self-respect.
Yes, it came at a cost.
Yes, it required grief.
But I am no longer negotiating my worth
with people who can’t meet me.
That’s not the illusion of control anymore.
That’s the emergence of self-trust.
I didn’t lose anything that was meant to stay.
I simply stopped investing in what couldn’t grow.
The Open Question
What if walking away isn’t abandoning someone —
but finally choosing not to abandon myself?
I’m still figuring this out…