Dear Amanda,
Take a deep breath. Just breathe. There’s a lot to process, and the first step is simply to allow yourself to feel the air in your lungs. Get out of bed when you feel ready, no rush. When you can, look at yourself in the mirror. You are seeing a woman who is about to rebuild her world, piece by piece. It might feel overwhelming right now, but try to shift that weight into hope. Hope for the beautiful things coming your way. Healing isn’t a straight path; there will be ups and downs, and that’s perfectly okay. Remember this above all else, and it might be hard to fully grasp now, but know deeply: none of what happened was your fault.
You believed you could fix him, save him. You stayed, hoping your love would change him, that he would finally cherish you instead of isolating you, instead of causing sleepless nights and hidden tears. You offered him every ounce of warmth in your heart. The fact that it wasn’t enough to heal him speaks volumes about his own internal struggles, not about any failing on your part. Don’t let yourself believe otherwise.
Here’s the truth: your life is expanding now that he is gone. But this expansion isn’t because he left; it’s because you are inherently expansive. You know who you are, your purpose, your worth, your direction. You’ve always known these things, and they were never dependent on him staying or going. It’s just that now, without his voice constantly undermining you, telling you that you are “too much,” “too ambitious,” or reciting that insidious script:
“That didn’t happen.”
“If it did, it wasn’t that bad.”
“If it was bad, it’s not a big deal.”
“If it is a big deal, it wasn’t my fault.”
“If it was my fault, I didn’t mean it.”
“And if I did mean it, you deserved it.”
That voice is silent now. You might feel lost without it, strangely, but listen to this: kinder, truer voices are coming to fill that space. You never have to listen to that wrong voice again. It’s okay that you ever felt you had to in the first place. You found the strength to walk away, and that was monumental. People who haven’t been through it might say it should have been easy, but they don’t understand the grip abuse has, how it strips you of your identity, makes you feel indebted, makes you hide the reality of your situation. You were paralyzed for so long, searching for an escape.
But you found it. You chose to leave a world where you were only tolerated and step into a world where you can be exquisite, radiant, and unstoppable. These are truths you will rediscover in the quiet of your own home, looking in the mirror and truly seeing yourself again.
His house was cold, mirroring his heart. There were no mirrors there, were there? Perhaps intentionally, so you couldn’t see your own strength reflected back at you.
But this is your first morning. Your first morning of a new beginning. It is hard, undeniably. The woman in the mirror is scared. Be present with that fear. Be scared, be angry, be sad. Feel it all, and let those feelings show you what they need to teach you. The easy path would be to call him, let him back in for the four hundredth time, restarting the cycle with empty apologies, excuses about “the bourbon,” and the manipulative line, “you’re the love of my life.”
Perhaps you were to him, but he was not your true love, and that unhealthy tie is now severed. Real love exists. You have so much love within you; nurture that love for yourself now. Breathe. Take your time. None of this was your fault, and you will grow from this. The woman in the mirror will smile again, genuinely. She will find joy and pour her energy into things that will flourish. Anger, fear, and confusion will still surface sometimes, but they will become background noise, fading behind laughter, singing in the car, deep conversations in coffee shops, nights under the stars. Life will become abundant again. Write that on the mirror, so you remember – remember that love is coming, and you are worthy of it. Like putting away summer car tools, you are putting away the tools of pain and preparing for a new season.
Love,
Yourself. Always.
