I just finished making dinner, ground beef and sweet potatoes, simple but so good, and now I’m finally sitting down to unwind for the night. Enjoying a Modelo, or two. Just two! I’m a lightweight. So, I felt like writing. It’s become one of my favorite ways to slow down and make sense of what’s on my mind and heart. Or, TRY to make sense of it at least. Putting my thoughts into words has helped my overthinking mind tremendously.
Tonight, I keep thinking about how we’re all imperfect people, coming and going into other people’s lives. Some stay, some leave. I always try to give others the benefit of the doubt and I try to understand them, especially people who have hurt me, and how, somewhere in all that questioning, I started believing my own heart was the problem.
I’ve spent so much of my life trying to understand why. Why someone could hurt me when all I wanted was to love them. Why my intentions could be misunderstood when I was trying so hard to be kind. Why people I thought would be in my life forever could become people I no longer speak to.
My mind is my own worst enemy! I would replay conversations, question what I said, and wonder what I could have done differently. Somehow, I always ended up looking for the flaw in myself. Maybe I cared too much. Maybe I was too sensitive. Maybe loving so deeply was the very thing I needed to change.
For a long time, I wished I could care a little less. Things seemed easier for people who could just walk away.
Then I became Catholic, and as I learned more about how God calls us to love, something in me began to settle. So much of what I had questioned about my heart was something I could finally be thankful for. Wanting to see the good in people. Being willing to forgive. Caring about someone even when there was nothing they could offer me in return.
I began to recognize ways I had already been trying to live that love, even before I understood where it came from.
That doesn’t mean I’ve always loved perfectly. I have my own faults, and good intentions don’t mean I’ve never hurt or misunderstood anyone. But I no longer believe that having a tender heart is something I need to apologize for. There is something beautiful about still being willing to love in a world where you have so many reasons to be guarded. And let me tell you, the things people have done to me, I should have a full security detail protecting my heart.
Because the truth is, evil is a very real thing. I’ve come to realize that the closer you try to get to God, the harder that darkness fights to pull you away from Him and change the very fabric of your heart. When people hurt me, the temptation was right there. I wanted revenge. I wanted to cuss them out and make them feel the exact same agony they inflicted on me. But deep down, I know that giving in to that isn't true strength. It’s weak to be spiteful. It allows the evil that hurt you to change who you are. It takes so much more strength to choose grace, to hold onto your peace, and to show love to someone who has done you wrong. And that is exactly what I will continue to do.
What I do need to learn is better boundaries. And if I’m being honest, that part has been much harder for me.
I’ve often let people hurt me until they were the ones who finally walked away. I could always find another reason to understand them. Another struggle they were going through. Another glimpse of who I believed they could be. I thought being the person who stayed meant I loved them enough. I think that love never gives up. It’s a choice more than a feeling.
But there were times I was so busy making room for their pain that I stopped acknowledging my own.
Lately, I’ve been learning that stepping away doesn’t have to mean giving up on someone. I can hope they heal without continuing to put myself in a position to be hurt. I can forgive them and still recognize that trust hasn’t been rebuilt. I can care deeply about their life without giving them the same place in mine.
I’m allowed to remove access to me when a relationship repeatedly leaves me hurt, unsettled, and unsure of myself. Every difficult moment isn’t a reason to leave, but I don’t have to ignore a pattern just because I understand someone’s wounds.
I can wish them well. I can pray for them. I can love them from a distance.
And I’m starting to understand that those prayers can be sincere even when the door stays closed.
I’ve lost relationships with family members I wanted to feel loved by. Best friends I thought I would grow old alongside. People I imagined a whole future with. Each loss has hurt in its own way, especially when I had to accept that loving someone deeply couldn’t make them choose to stay or treat me with care.
And yet, here I am, still with a heart full of love.
I still want to be thoughtful. I still get excited about making someone feel special. I still believe in friendship, in romance, in showing up for the people you love. After everything, that part of me is still here.
I’m thankful for that. I’m thankful the hurt hasn’t taken away my desire to be good to people. The hurt hasn’t changed my heart and how I love others. If anything, the pain has made my heart full of even more love.
I don’t want to become comfortable with causing pain just because I’ve experienced it. I can try to understand why someone behaves the way they do, but I’m glad that deliberately hurting someone still feels foreign to my heart. I hope it always does. I’m glad I don’t understand why a person who says they love me would want to hurt me. I just hope that one day they’ll recognize the love I showed them and it’ll inspire them to love others how I loved them so deeply.
And when I look at my life honestly, there is so much love here too.
There are people who check on me. People who are happy for me, who listen, who make room for me in their lives. People I know I could call when things fall apart. People who encourage me in my faith. People who support me, my business and my content. People who genuinely love me! I don’t want to become so focused on who left that I overlook the people who have quietly, consistently stayed. Because these people are literally angels and I’d never take them for granted.
Maybe I can count them on one hand. To me, that still feels like winning the lottery. A few people who truly love you are an enormous blessing. I thank God for mine.
And I thank Him for the way His love is changing what I’m willing to accept. The more I come to know that I am loved by Him, even with my imperfections, the less I feel I have to earn my place in someone’s life by enduring whatever hurts.
I’m learning to ask God for discernment too. To help me see people clearly, appreciate those who are meant to stay, and release the relationships that have reached the end of their chapter. I don’t always understand an ending when it happens. Sometimes I can only see what it made room for much later.
There are still things I may never get an explanation for. I’m trying to make peace with that. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life studying why someone hurt me while the people who love me are right here, waiting to share it with me.
My heart was never flawed simply because it loved deeply. It needs wisdom, boundaries, and the same care I’ve so freely offered others.
I’m asking God to help me give it all three, and to keep it soft along the way.
But for tonight, I’m thankful for a good dinner, a quiet evening, and a place to put these thoughts instead of getting lost in my phone. I don’t have every answer, and I’m learning I can still rest without them. There are people who love me, a God I can bring all of this to, and so much good still ahead of me. I’m ending the night grateful that my heart is still soft, and praying for the wisdom to take better care of it.
Lord, thank You for carrying me through the things I didn’t understand and for the people who have loved me well. Help me forgive those who have hurt me without ignoring my own hurt. Give me the wisdom to know when to stay, the courage to step away when I need to, and the grace to wish others well from a distance.
Keep my heart soft and teach me to love with discernment. When I’m tempted to question my worth, remind me that I am Your beloved daughter. Tonight, I place my unanswered questions in Your hands. Help me rest in Your love and trust You with what comes next. Amen.