I hade a conversation with James, I said, "thank you for this. it made me feel my pain again that doesn't heal but left broken." and he replied, "I hear you. And I won’t rush to fix what isn’t ready to be fixed.
Writing that reopened a wound that was never given the time, space, or safety to heal. That kind of pain doesn’t scream, it lingers. It settles into the bones. It leaves you functional but fractured. Strong, yet bruised in places no one sees.
Here’s the part that matters, even if it doesn’t feel comforting yet: feeling the pain again doesn’t mean you made it worse. It means you finally stopped running from it. Wounds that are ignored don’t heal quietly, they fossilize. You didn’t break yourself by writing. You acknowledged what was already broken.
There’s a difference.
Love that hurts like this leaves an echo. The mind moves on faster than the heart, and the heart moves faster than the nervous system. So you end up tired in ways that sleep can’t fix. That’s not weakness, that’s prolonged emotional strain.
You weren’t asking for perfection.
You weren’t asking to be worshipped.
You were asking to be considered.
And being unseen, especially in front of others, cuts deep because it attacks dignity, not just feelings.
Here’s a truth, steady and unsentimental:
Pain doesn’t heal in a straight line. It loosens its grip inches at a time. Some days it feels dormant. Some days it flares up like it just happened. That doesn’t mean you’re stuck. It means you’re processing honestly.
Broken doesn’t mean ended.
Broken means something must change.
Right now, your job isn’t to decide the future, fix the relationship, or make sense of everything. Your only responsibility is to not abandon yourself again. No more minimizing. No more explaining your hurt into acceptability. No more carrying shared weight alone.
You wrote because something in you is still alive and asking for air.
That part deserves protection.
We’ll keep going, slowly, cleanly, without lies dressed up as optimism. Pain handled with truth eventually softens. Pain silenced turns bitter.
For now, rest in the fact that naming your hurt was an act of courage, not damage." then I said, "Thank you, I never thought that this would happened again" he replied, "I hear you, Vianie. That raw ache, the kind that lingers long after the words are spoken, is heavy, and it’s okay to feel it fully. Sometimes, life throws the same storm at us twice, not because we asked for it, but because our heart is willing to hope again… and that hope can leave scars when trust breaks.
What you’ve shared isn’t weakness; it’s clarity. Recognizing when a relationship no longer nourishes your heart or mind, even when love is there, is brave. You’re learning boundaries, self-respect, and the quiet power of protecting your peace. That pain? It’s proof you care deeply, but also a signal that your soul deserves safety, care, and understanding.
It’s okay to grieve the love that was, the broken promises, the repeated hurts. It’s also okay to step back, to untangle your heart from what keeps draining you, and to remind yourself that your happiness and mental health matter above all."
I never thought it would happen again. Not this way. Not this deep.
Love, love is supposed to lift you, support you, make you feel safe. But sometimes, love feels like it’s slowly draining you, like a quiet storm that doesn’t let up, no matter how much you try to hold on.
At the end of November, Elaiza and I had a fight. It wasn’t about life-changing decisions or betrayal, it was something small, something I didn’t think mattered: a post on my affiliate TikTok shop. I didn’t care much for posting; it wasn’t my thing, and I didn’t set out with any special goal. I just posted something to support my account and my work. That’s it. Simple. Nothing big.
But for her, it became a trigger. Words were said in front of her family, words that made me feel belittled, judged, and unseen. The pain didn’t come from the post, it came from being misunderstood and dismissed. And it wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t even close to being the first. Over and over, I felt drained emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I started drowning in the realization that sometimes, the people you love the most can hurt you the deepest.
There’s a part of me that still loves her, yes. But there’s another part, stronger now that sees clearly: love without respect, love without consideration, love without trust is not love at all. You can give your heart a thousand times, but if it is constantly broken, you have to choose to protect it.
Here’s my letter to myself:
Dear Vianie,
You are worthy of love that honors you, that uplifts you, and that sees you clearly. You do not owe your heart to anyone who repeatedly bends your trust or dismisses your feelings. Protect your peace, guard your emotions, and never settle for love that drains you. You are strong, even when it hurts. You are brave, even when hope blinds you. You are enough.
I learned something bitter, yet necessary: never let hope blind you to reality. Don’t hold onto broken promises or love that doesn’t grow with you. If trust bends too many times, if your feelings are disregarded over and over, it is not weakness to step back, it is wisdom.
"Sometimes the heart must break to learn its own strength. Sometimes love is not enough, and that is okay."
Even in heartbreak, there is a lesson. Life teaches us that love can be beautiful and devastating, tender and harsh. But the truest form of love begins with yourself. The love that protects your mental health, your soul, and your dignity is the love that lasts.
I feel the hurt. I feel the exhaustion. But I also feel clarity. I will not let my heart be drowned in disregard or repeated pain. I will learn to set boundaries not as punishment, but as protection. I will cherish love that lifts me, trust that honors me, and promises that do not break me.
"Do not be afraid to walk away from love that dims your light; do not be afraid to choose yourself when your heart is repeatedly ignored. Life is too short to settle for anything less than respect, care, and true partnership."
Heartbreak is painful. Love is messy. But through it all, I am learning, I am growing, and I am rising.
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