How Healing Made Me Outgrow the Love That Once Felt Like Air.
I met them when I was still bleeding.
Not metaphorically.
I mean, I was mid-breakdown.
Fresh out of a war with myself.
All cracked open and craving connection like it was a drug.
And they showed up like morphine.
Not healing.
Not healthy.
But numbing enough to forget how much I was hurting.
They didn’t fall in love with me.
They fell in love with the version of me who needed them to survive.
And that shit felt like love.
The High of Being Half-Loved
You know the kind I’m talking about.
It’s not healthy, but it’s intoxicating.
It’s not real, but your trauma swears it’s destiny.
It’s the eye contact that feels like possession.
The late-night conversations that feel like soul contracts.
The push-pull that has your nervous system buzzing like you drank battery acid and called it champagne.
They text, you spiral.
They leave, you ache.
They breadcrumb you back, and suddenly you’re whole again — for five fucking minutes.
And you know it’s a pattern.
You know it’s toxic.
But your unhealed heart clings like it’s the only oxygen left.
It Wasn’t Fate. It Was Familiar.
Looking back, I didn’t fall for them.
I fell for the feeling they gave me —
The feeling of almost being enough.
Because when you grow up being taught love is earned,
you’ll mistake inconsistency for passion.
They were inconsistent.
Unavailable.
A little cruel, but charming as hell.
Just enough validation to keep me hooked.
Just enough silence to keep me chasing.
And I?
I was the good girl.
The fixer.
The shapeshifter.
The emotional contortionist willing to bend myself into oblivion for just one full fucking hug of certainty.
Spoiler: it never came.
Healing Changes Your Taste in People
One day, they did the same thing they’d always done.
Something passive-aggressive.
Something dismissive.
Something that once would’ve sent me spiraling into apology-mode.
But this time?
I just stared at my phone and felt… nothing.
Not numbness — clarity.
Like my body finally detoxed the lie.
The rush didn’t hit.
The craving didn’t bite.
The hunger wasn’t there.
And I realized:
Oh shit… I’m healing.
I Didn’t Fit There Anymore
The version of me that loved them didn’t exist anymore.
She was the one who kept her mouth shut.
The one who over-explained.
The one who read between lines that didn’t exist and made excuses just to avoid abandonment.
She needed them.
I didn’t.
And that hurt in a new way.
Because I wasn’t mad.
I wasn’t heartbroken.
I just didn’t feel anything anymore.
And that kind of loss?
It hits different.
It’s not the kind you cry over at 2am.
It’s the kind you sit with in silence, like staring at the ghost of someone who never actually lived.
Grieving the Chaos
You don’t just grieve the person.
You grieve the version of you who thought they were your person.
You grieve the story you built around the dysfunction.
The identity you wrapped in their approval.
The sparkly lie that you could fix them, save them, earn them.
You grieve the hope that kept you hooked.
Because letting go of the person is easy.
Letting go of what they represented? That’s a fucking funeral.
The Withdrawal Is Real
Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
When you cut off an emotional addiction, your body reacts.
Sleepless nights.
Sudden crying jags.
Shaking.
Obsessing over dumb details like the way their voice cracked when they said goodbye.
It’s not just heartbreak.
It’s detox.
It’s like ripping a needle out and learning how to feel again without the high.
You weren’t weak for going back.
You were in withdrawal.
You were chasing a hit — of love, of validation, of familiarity.
And when you stop needing it?
That’s not weakness.
That’s survival.
Some People Were Just Meant to Walk You Through Hell
And listen, I believe in soul connections.
I believe some people show up to mirror the wound so loud you can’t ignore it anymore.
They don’t heal you.
They show you what still hurts.
They show you what you’re still willing to sacrifice just to feel loved.
They reveal every weak spot you’ve been covering with glitter and affirmations.
And when you’re ready to stop bleeding for them, that’s when the lesson ends.
They weren’t your forever.
They were your awakening.
Letting Go Without Hating Them
It’s tempting to villainize them.
To write the narrative where they were the abuser and you were the victim.
And maybe parts of that are true.
But the real power move?
Is letting go without needing them to be evil.
Just… wrong for you now.
You outgrew the chaos.
You don’t need the drama anymore.
You don’t need to be broken to feel deep.
You’re building something softer now.
And baby, not everyone can survive in your softness.
The Boring Love Will Save You
Here’s what I know:
Someday, someone will come along and make you feel calm.
And your brain will panic — because calm used to mean danger.
It used to mean silence, rejection, abandonment.
But this time, it’ll be different.
Because you’re different.
You’ll learn that love doesn’t have to be loud to be real.
That safety isn’t boring.
That you don’t have to be in pain to prove you’re alive.
You’ll fall in love with someone who sees you — and doesn’t need to break you to feel powerful.
And it’ll feel like peace.
Like coming home to yourself.
✦ When the Ghost Is You
You think you’re haunted by them.
But the real ghost?
Is the version of you that needed them.
The you who stayed.
The you who begged.
The you who kept shrinking just to feel held.
She’s gone now.
And as much as it hurts to lose someone,
it’s nothing compared to the ache of losing yourself.
So if you feel haunted —
if there’s a whisper in your chest that sounds like “go back” —
just know: it’s not them pulling you.
It’s the echo of who you used to be.
And baby, ghosts don’t belong in your body anymore.You’ve been reborn.
You don’t need to haunt yourself to feel love.
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