As I heal, the world begins to look different. The things I once accepted, even cherished, have taken on new meanings. Attention no longer feels like love. A fleeting text, a passing compliment, or a moment of acknowledgment used to feel like validation, but now I understand that love is not just attention—it’s intention. It’s found in actions that are consistent, meaningful, and rooted in respect. Love doesn’t just graze the surface; it goes deeper, offering something lasting and true.
I’ve also started to see the difference between attachment and connection. Attachment often grows from fear—the fear of being alone, of change, of losing someone. It clings tightly, sometimes suffocating me. But connection is different. It’s not about holding on; it’s about being present. It’s choosing to be with someone not out of necessity but out of mutual desire and respect. Connection allows space for individuality and interdependence, while attachment often demanded that I sacrifice pieces of myself.
The bare minimum, which once seemed like effort, no longer satisfies me. When I was used to settling, even the smallest gestures felt monumental. A remembered birthday or a sporadic check-in seemed like someone going above and beyond. But now, I realize effort is something more. It’s consistent, reciprocal, and intentional. It’s not about doing just enough to keep me around but about showing up fully and genuinely.
My understanding of intimacy has shifted as well. What once felt like closeness was often enmeshment—a blurring of boundaries where my individuality was lost. It felt comforting to merge identities, but true intimacy doesn’t ask me to lose myself. Instead, it invites me to be fully myself in someone’s presence. It thrives on vulnerability, mutual respect, and trust—not control or dependency.
And then there’s the community I once found in shared pain. Trauma can create strong bonds, whether in relationships or groups. These bonds often felt like support, but I’ve realized they can keep me trapped in cycles of pain, reinforcing my wounds instead of encouraging my growth. Now, I see that true support doesn’t just comfort me in my struggles—it challenges me to grow, holds me accountable, and uplifts me in ways that push me forward.
This transformation hasn’t been easy. I’ve had to walk away from people, patterns, and environments that once felt familiar, even safe. I’ve had to sit with the discomfort of being alone while I redefine what I truly need and deserve. But as I heal, the things I once settled for no longer satisfy me. I find myself seeking and attracting relationships and experiences that nourish my soul, honor my boundaries, and align with the person I’m becoming.
Healing is more than just mending old wounds—it’s about reclaiming my perspective and my power. It’s an awakening to the fact that I deserve more—more love, more connection, more effort, more intimacy, and more support. In healing, I’ve not only learned to recognize what isn’t love—I’ve learned what is. And that has changed everything.
🫰💞🫖 JustRealTea
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When you put this all, the way you have written it, it seems like common sense, but it is so far from that. When someone who has put the work in, been through the ringer and experienced first hand what does not work, and lays it down in front of us in such simple, eloquent terms, it simplifies the terms. Thanks for setting the table for all who are lost inside themselves or are struggling.