Sometimes I Look Forward to Losing Things

Sometimes I almost look forward to heartbreak. It feels strange to admit that, but there’s something about losing what I’ve poured myself into that brings me back to myself.

And I don’t just mean a person. It could be an idea, a passion, a project, or a life I imagined having.

When I love something, I go all in. I want to learn everything about it, give it all my time, see where it can take me. It becomes what I think about when I wake up and what keeps me up at night. I become completely and utterly consumed and obsessed. Healthy? I don’t know. That’s just how I’m wired. But there’s excitement in that. I love having something to look forward to. But somewhere along the way, I can get so consumed that I stop paying attention to anything outside of it, including myself.

Sometimes it leaves. Sometimes I get tired. Sometimes I give it everything until there’s nothing left in me to give.

Whatever the ending looks like, there’s this familiar quiet afterward. At first, I don’t always know what to do with it. I reach for something that’s no longer there. I miss having somewhere to put all that energy.

Then, slowly, I start noticing other things again. I pick up something I haven’t touched in months. I spend an afternoon without feeling pulled toward the same thought. I remember there were things I wanted before this became the thing I wanted most.

I think that’s the part I look forward to. Even while something hurts, I know there will eventually be room for something I can’t see yet.

Still, I wonder about the way I keep arriving here. How quickly I can move from loving something to losing myself in it. How often I need an ending before I remember to check in with myself.

For example, I didn’t realize how much of my creativity I had put aside recently while I was so wrapped up in something I wanted so badly. I wasn’t taking photos just because something caught my eye, writing down my thoughts, or making art the way I used to. So much of my attention was somewhere else that I barely noticed how much I missed those things. Now that I’ve let it go, I’m finding myself reaching for my camera again, wanting to write, having ideas I’m excited to create. And I love that feeling. There’s still sadness, but there’s also this excitement in returning to things that have always been a part of me. I missed making things without needing them to lead anywhere. I missed that part of myself.

I want to learn how to stay close to myself while I’m happy, too. To enjoy something without giving it every available piece of me. To let a passion be part of my life without needing it to become my whole life.

I’m grateful for what endings have brought me. Some of the things I love now only entered my life because something else was gone.

But I hope, with time, I can make room for new things before I’m completely burned out. That I can keep the excitement, the curiosity, the willingness to love deeply and still have enough of myself left to recognize when I need to rest.

For now, I’m learning to appreciate that quiet after letting go. There’s sadness there, but there’s also a little curiosity.

I wonder what I’ll notice next.