I used to think love could fix anything. That if someone hurt me, but they loved me, then maybe it wasn’t really hurt. Maybe it was just… a misunderstanding. Maybe it was passion. Maybe I needed to be softer, quieter, more patient.
But then I realized—maybe was killing me.
We don’t talk enough about the heartbreak that happens inside relationships. The kind that doesn’t always come with black eyes or screaming matches, but with slow, steady cracks in your self-worth. You know the kind—when you’re lying next to someone who says they love you, but you still feel painfully alone. When apologies start to feel scripted. When your gut is always tight, like it’s bracing for the next emotional punch, even during the quiet moments.
And still… you stay.
Because they say they’re trying.
Because you’ve invested so much time.
Because they swear they’ll change.
Because leaving feels like failure.
Because the thought of starting over feels heavier than the pain you're already used to.
But here's the raw truth I had to face:
You can’t heal in the arms of the person who broke you.
It’s like trying to recover from smoke inhalation in a burning house.
You’ll suffocate before you ever get a chance to breathe.
I kept hoping they would become the safe place I needed. I gave grace, space, second chances. I rewrote boundaries just to keep the peace. I made excuses for them to my friends, and worse—excuses to myself. I wanted the fairytale so badly that I ignored the nightmare I was actually in.
But healing doesn't happen in recycled chaos.
Healing doesn’t come from the same hands that wounded you—especially if those hands never learned how to hold you with care in the first place.
Walking away wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t explosive. It was quiet. Painfully quiet. I packed the parts of myself I still recognized and left the rest behind. I cried in my car. I screamed into pillows. I questioned everything.
And then, slowly…
I started to feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time: Peace.
Not butterflies. Not adrenaline. Just peace.
No one was raising their voice. No one was gaslighting me. I didn’t have to keep shrinking just to be lovable.
And isn’t that what healing really is?
Choosing peace over chaos.
Choosing yourself over the idea of them.
So if you’re still holding on, waiting for them to become someone they’ve never been…
I get it.
But please remember:
You’re not asking for too much.
You’re asking the wrong person.
Let go.
It’s not your job to fix them.
It’s your job to save yourself.
Because healing doesn’t happen in their arms.
It happens in your own.
