Heal me Today

I’m still here. Still breathing — even though sometimes, that hurts too.

I’ve started wondering: is this a kind of toxic addiction? Am I going through withdrawal? It certainly feels like it.

Yesterday, I completed my beginner’s course in Thai boxing. The last two sessions were incredibly tough — not just physically, but emotionally, too. I was already deep in the withdrawal phase. I haven’t been eating properly. I’ve barely been drinking water. My body is running on fumes.

And then on the way home, it hit me — I’m really going to be alone for everything now. Truly alone.

I’ve felt like a single mother for years, but at least I used to have the illusion that I was returning to someone at the end of the day. That there was someone, even if not fully present. Now that illusion is gone. There’s no one waiting. No one to lean on.

And honestly? I’m scared. I’ve never been this scared in my life.

I’ve had a boyfriend since I was 14. I’ve never lived a life on my own. I don’t even know what that looks like. But here I am, standing on the edge of it. It’s a challenge I never asked for — but I accept it. With respect. With fear. And with hope.

Yesterday in therapy, I felt a bit of relief. But when my therapist told me that the pain after a breakup often takes around six weeks just to settle, I froze. Six weeks? I don’t want to feel like this for six weeks. Or worse — what if after six weeks it gets worse?

I know I can’t rush healing. But I still want to try. I want to get better — faster.

So I’ve started organizing my home. Clearing space. Trying to create the foundation for a new life. I don’t know yet what that life will look like. Maybe it will mean becoming a family again — three of us, together, stronger. Or maybe it will mean making space for someone new who truly deserves to be part of our lives.

I’m not searching for love. Love always finds me. I believe in fate — that everything happens for a reason, even if the reason is painful beyond belief.

And then there’s this:
Our relationship began on the 22nd day of the month. And it ended on the 22nd day, too.
What are the odds? Maybe that’s fate’s quiet way of telling me that a full circle has been completed. A cycle closed.

Maybe some stories are meant to start and end in poetic symmetry. Maybe that was our sign.

It’s terrible when the lesson is this painful. But maybe that’s what makes it last. Maybe some lessons need to hurt, or we never truly learn them.

I don’t have the answers. Maybe I never will.

I try to stay strong. But when I can’t, I cry. When I lose my grip on logic, I speak from the heart — sometimes I scream, sometimes I hit my pillow just to let it out.

And yet… I remain grateful.

Grateful for this breakdown, because I now see how long I’ve neglected myself. My growth. My journey. And even if this path costs me someone I thought I’d have forever — maybe he was never meant to stay. Maybe he came into my life to teach me, and now it’s time to let go.

Time will tell.

What I do know is: I’m still here. I’m still breathing. I may not be okay today, but one day — I will be.