Sometimes I think the hardest part wasn’t loving too much – it was not knowing how to show love in a healthy way.
I cared deeply. Probably more deeply than I even admitted out loud. But care can become tangled when you’re carrying fear, insecurity, old wounds, and emotions you haven’t fully learned to manage yet. I know there were moments where my reactions overshadowed my intentions. Moments where I reached instead of rested, panicked instead of paused, held on tighter instead of softer.
But it’s also true that love is never one person’s failure alone.
I spent a long time blaming myself for everything that went wrong, replaying every mistake until it became proof that I was impossible to love. Now I see something more balanced: I was struggling, yes, but I was also trying. Trying to be understood. Trying to feel safe. Trying to keep something meaningful from disappearing.
I didn’t always get it right. Neither did they.
And maybe healing is finally accepting that two people can care about each other deeply and still not know how to meet each other properly at that moment in time.
I don’t carry anger anymore. Mostly just sadness, gratitude and acceptance. Because even through all the confusion, the thing that was always real was that I cared. I still do in a quiet way. But now I’m learning that caring about someone should never require abandoning yourself in the process.
NORTH LET GO 