You know those unexpected memories that resurface—the ones you thought you deleted or buried so deep they’d never return? One of those showed up in my photo memories recently. A snapshot from 2023. Just a simple image, but with it came a flood of emotions I wasn’t ready for.

2023 was a year that almost broke me. A time so painful I think I unknowingly shut down parts of myself just to survive. Looking back now, I realize how much of that year I’ve blocked out. How much I had to silence in order to breathe. That memory, that picture—it made me relive what it felt like to be shattered.

It’s hard to put into words the kind of grief you feel when you lose love. But the closest comparison I can make is death. Not metaphorical—actual death. The kind that alters you forever. And I know that the only pain that may one day rival it is when I lose one of my parents. That’s how deeply I loved. That’s how deeply I lost.

A part of me died in 2023. The part that still believed love could conquer all. The part that thought if you were kind, loyal, soft, and forgiving enough, someone would stay. That belief was stripped from me in the cruelest way, and something inside me changed.

I became numb. Hardened. Detached in ways I never thought possible. Sometimes I stare at my reflection and wonder who I am now. And though I mourn the girl I used to be—the one who loved blindly, endlessly—I’m also proud of the woman I’ve become. A woman who is strong as hell. Who won’t ever allow herself to be destroyed like that again.

But strength has its cost. I lost the most innocent, beautiful part of my heart to gain it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to love the same way again—freely, fully, without fear. But I know this much: I will always love myself enough to never let anyone make me feel that small, that broken, again.

There are still so many things I don’t understand—like how someone can betray a person who gave them everything. How someone can lie, manipulate, gaslight, and still sleep peacefully at night. But I’ve learned that the answer isn’t in trying to understand them—it’s in choosing to understand myself. It’s in choosing healing, growth, and peace over revenge or regret.

When someone breaks your trust, they don’t just hurt your heart—they damage your soul. And the only way to repair it is to protect it. To rebuild your boundaries and raise your standards. To forgive—but not forget. To learn, not repeat.

That memory from two years ago—yes, it brought the pain back for a second. A sharp, suffocating second. But only for that moment. Because then I remembered: I survived. I grew. I chose me. I stopped making excuses for someone else’s behavior. I stopped settling for crumbs and started standing tall in my worth.

I don’t know if love is real the way I once believed. I don’t know if I’ll ever find a soulmate or the kind of forever-after I used to dream about. But I do know this: I believe in me. I believe in my heart, even if it beats differently now. I believe in what I bring to this world. And I believe that my pain wasn’t in vain—it made me someone I’m proud of.

Maybe I’ll end up alone. Maybe I won’t. But the truth is, I’m no longer afraid of either outcome. Because I am whole, even with scars. I am healing, even with pieces missing. I am enough.

And that…is what truly matters in the end.