🖤 Making Peace with the Ache

🌑 A Week That Shook Me

This week’s post is heavier than most. I debated whether I should share it at all, but this is why I created this space. To tell the truth of what’s on my heart. And the deeper it hits, the more important it feels to write.

Earlier this week I was dealing with some health issues, minor on paper, but my mind makes everything major. Each flutter in my chest pulled me down a rabbit hole: What if I die here, alone?

In the middle of that spiral, my feed was filled with Monaleo and Stunna’s wedding. The joy, the tenderness, the way he looks at her with such genuine love, it was beautiful. And it triggered something in me I didn’t expect.

💔 The Ache of Watching Love

Hearing Stunna speak about how he loves her simply for being her—because she’s Monaleo and she loves pink—brought tears to my eyes. It reminded me that love like that exists.

But it also brought up the whisper I try to quiet: What makes you think you’ll ever have that?

As a woman who’s survived abusive relationships, I know the high of things being good until they suddenly aren’t. I know what it’s like to heal from trauma that love itself created. And so the idea of a man loving me wholly, consistently, simply for being me, it feels almost unattainable.

🪞 Alone in the Silence

That spiral took me deeper. I live alone. I’m an only child. My two closest friends, I might talk to every few months. I have my mom—my best friend—but no partner who checks on me daily, no one who would know if I didn’t wake up tomorrow.

And the thought that one day I’ll have to grieve my mom, alone, nearly breaks me. As her only child, I can’t imagine carrying that weight without someone to hold me up.

Even fall, my favorite season, can sting with loneliness. While others gather with family, mine is far away. And again, I’m left with myself.

🌊 What Brought Me Back

I don’t have a shiny revelation this week. No “aha” moment. Just me, my tears, and my rituals.

In the middle of the spiral, I ran my bath, lit my candles, and reminded myself: this is my safe return. This is where I come back to peace. This is where I hold myself and whisper, It’s okay. Keep going.

That’s my anchor. That’s my soft place. That’s the reason I don’t stay down for weeks when life tries to pull me under.

✨ A Gentle Reminder for your Weekend

I’m still believing that one day I won’t have to walk through it all alone, that the love I crave, the partnership, the support, will find me. But until then, I have me.

I have my soft place.
I have my rituals.
I have my resilience.

The world may knock me down nine times, but I’m getting up ten. And I hope you do too.

🌷 Thank You for Reading

If you made it this far, thank you for holding this piece of my heart and sitting with me in the quiet places most of us try to hide.
I hope my honesty meets your own and reminds you that you’re never as alone as you feel, that you have a place to return to, both within yourself and here with me.

✨ Affirmation Set:

• I am allowed to grieve futures I haven’t lived yet, while still trusting that new ones are unfolding for me.

• Mortality reminds me that nothing is guaranteed, so I choose presence, here and now, as my daily prayer.

• When fear of the future visits me, I anchor myself in the truth that I have survived every yesterday, I will survive this too.

• My solitude is not emptiness; it is a sacred container where I meet myself most honestly.

📝 Soft Return Reflection Prompts:

What fears about the future visit me most often, and what do they reveal about what I deeply desire?

How does my relationship with solitude shift when I see it as a sacred container rather than emptiness?

In what ways do I grieve futures that haven’t happened yet, and how might I also begin to make space for new ones to unfold?

What would it look like to honor both my longing for connection and the strength I’ve built in my independence?

If mortality reminds me that nothing is guaranteed, what simple joys or quiet moments do I want to be more present for today?

Until Next Time 🌺