this is not love

maybe it was never love. because love shouldn’t feel like a transactional workplace shift schedule. not after 3 years of what i genuinely believed was a soul connection. love shouldn’t mean limping through paris on a sprained ankle and still trying to make everything comfortable for someone else. love shouldn’t mean hearing, straight to my face, that i will not be a priority, and somehow still finding reasons to understand and accept it. and love certainly shouldn’t leave me spending my nights trying to make sense of being restricted, unrestricted, hidden and unhidden on social media. fml. at 42 years old. seriously? 😂 i think what i’ve been surviving is an exhausting cycle of giving, waiting, hoping, getting hurt, recovering, and somehow convincing myself to try again. i gave so much of myself. my time, my warmth, my reassurance, my patience, my understanding. i made myself available even when i was barely holding myself together. and perhaps that was the problem. i made my presence so constant that it became something to be expected rather than appreciated. i kept thinking that if i loved sincerely enough, if i understood enough, if i gave enough space, things would eventually become better. but the truth is, i cannot love someone into valuing me. when i finally stopped reaching out, when i disappeared digitally and went completely silent for 10 days, the dynamics changed. the restricting and unrestricting continued. sometimes multiple times a day. i dun know why. maybe curiosity. maybe discomfort. maybe control. maybe absolutely nothing to do with me. but why am i still trying to figure it out? why am i spending my precious time analysing someone’s digital behaviour when i already know how the entire connection has made me feel? i think that’s the part i really need to wake up from. because i’m an MBA graduate. i’m a nurse manager. i lead a ward, manage people, make difficult decisions and carry responsibilities that affect actual human lives. i’m also a mother of 3. i have children who need me, a career i’ve worked incredibly hard for, and an entire life that i’ve spent years building. yet somehow, i can still find myself lying awake on a monday night, thinking of work-related excuses to reach out, wondering whether to send a message, whether silence means anything, whether being hidden or unhidden means something has changed. wah lau eh. 😂 the irony is that i can manage an entire ward, deal with difficult situations, make decisions under pressure, and still become completely helpless when it comes to matters of my own heart. but i think i’m finally beginning to understand something. my ability to love deeply is not the problem. my willingness to keep abandoning my own emotional needs just to preserve a connection is. i have spent so much time trying to understand another person’s wounds, fears, limitations and behaviours that i almost forgot to ask myself whether any of this was actually good for me. i can have compassion without making myself responsible for fixing anyone. i can love without constantly proving it. i can miss someone terribly and still choose not to reach out. and i can acknowledge that something meant the world to me without insisting that it must continue to have a place in my life. i dun need to retaliate. i dun need to make anyone jealous, regret anything, or miss me. i dun even need an explanation anymore. i know what i gave. i know my intentions were sincere. i know i made mistakes along the way too, especially when my anxiety got the better of me. but i also know i tried. again and again. my conscience is clear. i’ve taken back my digital space. my private world is private again. my planner, my thoughts, my little moments of happiness. not everything needs to be visible or accessible to everyone. and perhaps that’s what growing up emotionally looks like for me. not becoming cold. not learning to love less. not building walls so high that nobody can ever reach me again. but finally understanding that access to my heart should come with mutual care, respect and consistency. i’m 42. i have survived so much, achieved so much, and spent far too many years learning how to be strong for everyone else. surely i deserve to experience some of that same steadiness in my own life. i don’t regret loving. i don’t regret giving. and i don’t need to turn anyone into a villain just to justify choosing myself. some connections can be incredibly meaningful and still not be healthy for me. some people can matter enormously and still not be meant to stay. and sometimes the most loving thing i can do for myself is to stop standing outside a door, wondering when it will open again. i have not lost my ability to love. i’m just learning that my love deserves somewhere safe to exist too. maybe i’ve finally outgrown the playground. and maybe, for once, i dun need to go back just because someone opens the gate. (: