The Girl I'm Learning to Let Go Of

I don’t think I’ve fully left her behind yet. She’s still here sometimes, quiet but present. She’s the version of me who panics when someone goes silent. The one who assumes silence means I’ve been forgotten, used, or replaced. The one who starts asking questions that no one can answer, because they only exist in my head.

That version of me doesn’t trust easily. When she finally lets her guard down, it’s because she believes the person in front of her might be different. That they might not leave. That they might actually stay. But when she’s been wrong, the pain hits like a wave that won’t stop. 🌊

She used to spiral hard. If something felt off, she’d replay moments over and over until she created entire conversations that never happened. She’d punish people in her mind for words they never said. She’d cut people off before they could hurt her, convince herself she was unbothered, and then cry quietly later.

But lately, I’ve started doing things differently. I’ve started asking questions instead of assuming. I’ve started choosing to talk instead of disappearing. I’ve started letting people explain themselves before I write my own story about what they meant. I’m not perfect at it. Sometimes I still overthink. Sometimes I still shut down. But I’m aware now.

And honestly, I’m just tired. I’ve realized that the way I used to cope doesn’t work anymore. It kept me safe for a while, but it also kept me lonely. It made me believe that control was protection, when really it was fear wearing armor.

I want better. I want peace that doesn’t require me to police every silence. I want love that doesn’t feel like survival. I want trust that doesn’t make my chest tighten. And I know that starts with me. 🌸

So when I look back at her, the old me, I don’t see failure. I see a woman who learned how to protect herself when no one else did. I see a woman who carried herself through heartbreaks, confusion, disappointment, and still kept her heart open enough to try again.

If I could talk to her right now, I’d hold her face in my hands and tell her, “It’s okay, babygirl. Take it one day at a time. You don’t have to rush. You don’t have to earn love by being perfect. Don’t stop being you. Don’t shrink or dim your light because others couldn’t see its glow. Keep shining. Someone will see you clearly.” 💗

That’s the part of me I’m learning to leave behind, not her love, not her loyalty, but the fear that made her think she had to earn safety.

And I’m proud of that. 🌷