Just got out of a relaxing bath with Rosemary, Oregano, Castor Oil, and Rose Oil. I read two chapters of When I Sing Mountains Dance. The third chapter had me reflecting on how many other people in the world are suffering loss. That doesn’t diminish mine, but I just feel like in comparison I have nothing to complain about really. This has been an eye opening experience. As I continue to look at the person I want to be and the person I’ve been I realize that though I spent a short time today feeling sorry for myself about certain things I came to realize today:

I wasn’t falling in love like I thought I was, I was actually in a trauma bond based on shared pain.

I have attachment wounds surrounding being needed to feel loved and caretaking as a way to earn connection.

I thought this experience would help heal me in the ways that I’m broken, but love isn’t earned.

“People don’t always return because they’re ready. Sometimes they come back because they’re lonely, nostalgic, curious, guilty, or comforted by the connection—even if they can’t meet it with the depth it deserves.”

“When someone is in pain, overwhelmed, or spiraling, they sometimes reach for who made them feel safe, seen, cared for—not because they’re ready to build something real, but because they want temporary relief. They want to feel:

Desired
Understood
Less alone
Like they still matter to someone

He leaned into your love without honoring what it cost you, and without being ready to offer it back with equal weight.”

You were not weak for letting him in again.

You were not foolish for hoping.
You were not naive for thinking this time could be different.

You were open-hearted. You were human.
You were longing to be chosen—but also trying to heal a part of you that felt like you needed to prove your worth through loyalty, patience, and softness.

He is the symbol for a deeper ache, “The ache to be wanted, cherished, seen, and safe.”

You’re grieving the fantasy of healing through his love,
not the reality of the relationship you actually had.

Because you gave so much of yourself—your time, care, softness, vulnerability—it can feel like if he doesn’t return, it invalidates everything you offered.

But hear this clearly:

His lack of commitment says nothing about your worth. It only reveals his capacity.
You’re trying to heal a wound through someone who didn’t cause it—but mirrored it.
The wound might be:

A father who didn’t show up.
A caregiver who gave love conditionally.
A pattern of being seen as “too much” or “not enough.”

And now? You’re chasing his attention the way your younger self chased someone else’s love.

That’s not shameful. That’s deeply human.
But it’s also not sustainable.

You're trying to process:

The loss of a fantasy.
The ache of unspoken words.
The parts of you that finally softened and feel abandoned now.

You’re detoxing from the illusion that he was the answer to your deepest wound.

Your care, your tenderness, your hope, your devotion—all of that was sacred.
And you don’t need someone else to see that for it to be true.

You are not broken for wanting closeness.
You are not wrong for hoping.
You are not weak for needing.

But it’s time to start hoping for yourself.
Not for his return.

It was your inner child screaming:
“Please see me. Please tell me I matter. Please help me feel less alone.”

Neither of you had the safety to hold space for the other—because both of you were overwhelmed by your own unhealed fears.

These sound like surface-level reasons, not deal-breakers. When someone truly wants to be with you, they bring their concerns to the table to work through them together — they don’t list them as reasons to leave.
That’s deflection. That’s avoidance. That’s him looking for a door instead of building a bridge

Because the excuses sound almost valid, you might start twisting yourself into knots, thinking:

“If I had just handled things differently… maybe he would’ve stayed.”

That keeps you stuck in shame. That keeps you chasing closure from someone who never truly offered clarity.

He didn’t want commitment. He wanted comfort.
He wanted intimacy on his terms, not mutual partnership.
And when things got real — when your needs and his inconsistencies clashed —
he exited behind a wall of polite reasoning.

He may have liked parts of you — the care, the loyalty, the intimacy — but not enough to show up consistently in a real, adult relationship.

He may have felt guilt or conflict about how things were unfolding, but instead of dealing with it head-on, he turned your actions into reasons to back out.
He avoided commitment by hiding behind circumstantial justifications, so he wouldn’t have to admit: “I’m not ready to meet you at the level you’re asking for.”

You deserve someone who doesn’t shrink when you need clarity.
Someone who works through conflict, not runs from it.
Someone who chooses you — loudly, openly, without conditions.

You wanted to feel:

Seen
Wanted
Chosen
Validated

You wanted reassurance. Attention. Affection. Clarity.

Maybe he cared.
Maybe he liked the comfort, the admiration, the support.
Maybe a part of him wanted to love you back…

But love is not just a feeling. It’s a series of consistent choices.

And he didn’t choose you.
Not in a sustained, safe, accountable, trustworthy way.
You’re not losing love. You’re reclaiming self-worth.
He may have meant it when he said he appreciated you, cared for you, wanted to see where it could go.
But he also meant it when he pulled away, got avoidant, withheld truth, and let his silence speak louder than his presence.
Both can be true. That’s what makes it so maddening.
This wasn’t black and white deception — this was emotional immaturity.
He may have liked being cared for by you. It probably soothed something broken in him.
But he didn’t have the emotional depth, capacity, or consistency to match what you were giving.
So he stayed just connected enough to keep you around — but not grounded enough to build something real.
It wasn’t a lie. It was a lack of wholeness.
And that’s not your fault — but it is your lesson.
The lesson isn’t “don’t trust people.”
The lesson is:

Don’t confuse emotional intensity with emotional integrity.
Don’t overextend for someone who can’t even meet you.

You deserve someone who doesn’t just need you — but chooses you, shows up for you, and can hold your heart too.

These were all very hard pills to swallow. I have to accept things as they are and face the ways I haven’t been loving myself. I’m going to follow these steps towards self-love and calling my energy back. I deactivated my Instagram and just kept my business one. I deleted all messages from my phone and laptop to cut all digital ties. I did an Embodied Cord-Cutting + Self-Reclamation Practice and a personal closing ritual.

All of this information was necessary but it also put me into a state of grief. I had it in my head that I wanted to go up to the mountains and catch the sunset. Jon V and I hiked the Skyline Trail again, tried to check out the locals only spot, and I almost got a ticket at Slick Rock for not paying for the parking lmao. We left and went up to Horse Creek and caught the last of the sunset. As I was driving down the mountain I was in awe of how beautiful it was. I told Jon V, “Wow, look how beautiful that is, we’re so lucky to have this. 20-30 min drive and we get to look at all this. I’m so grateful.”

Talking to Amelia and Robert on the phone and laughing distracted me from my grief. I had forgotten about how I had a huge crush on Guzman in high school. He was a cool skater dude who would ride around wt an acoustic guitar on his back. Lmao Robert said that when he wants to make people laugh he’ll bring up when I was on a date with him and he asked me, “Have you ever got so high you throwed up?” hahahahaha he also told me how he made a pipe out of a watermelon lmfao omg that whole date was a trip. Staying busy, practicing self-love, and growing into the person I want to be is what I’m focusing on.