LOVE

 

Love is a broad concept. Scientifically, it isn't identified as a single emotion. It's something you can't touch or fully describe. It's a feeling of connection that goes beyond comprehension. It has the power to make us experience both euphoria and despair, altering the very chemistry of our brains.

As profound as love is, it can also be one of the most devastating experiences we go through. Every person we fall in love with teaches us something new—not only about them, but about ourselves, about who we allow into our lives, and who we choose to keep out.

And let me tell you, heartbreak isn't always the same. If you've loved someone who was emotionally unavailable, that's an entirely different kind of pain. When love exists on both sides but people grow apart, it's heartbreaking, but it's a grief you can eventually understand. However, realizing you've been manipulated for so long, that someone took advantage of your love and trust, is a completely different story.

You carry one question in the back of your mind: Was any of it real? You wonder how someone can be so cruel. And if you're an empath, you're left with conflicting emotions—feeling sorry for them while also feeling angry that you were lied to for so long, angry that you didn't see it sooner. Eventually, you're forced to walk away from what has become emotional torture.

When I started therapy, I told my therapist, "I need help getting out of my own head." The confusion was beyond my ability to understand. Becoming collateral damage in someone else's unresolved issues is devastating. The constant pain, the limbo they leave you trapped in, is unbearable. It slowly eats away at you from the inside. Only those who have gone through something similar truly understand, because it's almost impossible to explain to someone who hasn't lived it.

The trust you had in them—and in yourself—shatters. Sometimes repair doesn't feel possible. Instead, you're left with a new version of yourself: someone who doubts people, doubts emotions, doubts intuition, even doubts their own heart. You feel betrayed not only by the other person, but by yourself. You no longer know where to find comfort or what to believe.

In what we might call a "normal" breakup, there's often hope that things could somehow work out. But with this kind of heartbreak, hope disappears the moment the truth is revealed. Once the damage is done, there's no returning to what you believed existed.

It's like the pillars of a house have cracked. When the foundation has been compromised, repairing it is no longer an option. It has to be demolished because without solid ground, nothing can safely stand.

So you begin the painful work of letting go. You slowly erase the fantasy, accepting that much of what you believed wasn't genuine. You grieve not only the person, but the version of reality you thought you had. Rebuilding trust in yourself is difficult work, but it has to be done. Otherwise, pain has a way of transforming us into people who hurt others the same way we were hurt. That's where your character is truly tested.

One thing I was certain of was this: I didn't want to become like them. I didn't want my pain to become someone else's. So I had to do the work. I had to heal, one step at a time.

With time, you begin remembering things differently. You start recalling the moments they mistreated you, the lies they told—not only to you but to themselves. You realize how little remorse they carried for the damage they caused.

If someone tells you, "I don't know how I feel about you," believe them. It doesn't have to be complicated. When someone chooses to leave, let them go. The work ahead belongs to you. Give yourself time. Be vulnerable. There is no shame in that. Don't rush the process, but don't let yourself live in it forever either.

As complicated as it feels, I truly believe it passes. Eventually, it stops being about them. You no longer miss them—you grieve the version of yourself that endured so much pain. You mourn the person you were before everything happened.

If someone was meant to leave, then let that be the final answer. They played their part. They taught you something. Now it's your turn to move forward with the grief.

I don't believe we ever completely stop loving the people who once mattered to us, nor do we truly forget them. Every person who enters our lives continues the journey with us in one way or another. We don't forget the lesson—we carry it. We grieve the connection that once existed, and then we keep moving.

Hope eventually returns. Believing that one day we'll meet the person who is truly right for us is a beautiful thought to hold onto while healing. Compatibility is what sustains a relationship. Love alone isn't enough. It also takes compassion, empathy, tenderness, safety, commitment, and the willingness to choose each other every day. Without those things, even love becomes exhausting.

A friend once told me, "The world is big. Don't get stuck. The right person is out there. You'll meet him when you're ready, and when he's ready too."

At first, I held onto the fantasy of what I thought we had. But slowly, things began to unravel. I started connecting the dots. I learned things from those around me that cleared my mind completely. The fantasy faded, and I finally saw the relationship for what it truly was. Even the moments I believed were deeply genuine no longer looked the same. I realized that what felt like connection wasn't always built on good intentions.

Maybe the fear of being alone made me ignore the unhealthy patterns and cruel behavior for far too long. Maybe I buried them beneath the comfort of simply having someone beside me. But eventually, there comes a point where you can no longer lie to yourself.

Going through the heartbreak became the path back to freedom.

And that's okay.