[GUEST POST] The Weight of Love and Letting Go

It was an ordinary day when I made the decision. Not the day I left, but the day I knew. The laundry was folded, the kids were playing quietly, and you were on the couch, scrolling through your phone. It wasn’t a fight or a dramatic moment, but the realization hit me in the quietest way: I was more alone in that room than I had ever been in my life.

For years, I had told myself that love was enough—that the sacrifices, the compromises, the staying, were all a part of what love demanded. I don’t blame myself for believing that. I was young, hopeful, and willing to pour everything I had into what we built together.

And we did build something, didn’t we? Ten years of shared days and nights. Two beautiful children who carry pieces of both of us in their laughter and tears. I’ll never regret that part.

But somewhere in the years of giving, I lost myself.

I didn’t notice at first. It was in the small things: the way I stopped reading because you thought my books were “a waste of time,” the way I stopped singing in the kitchen because it annoyed you, the way I started shrinking myself, folding my edges inward to fit the shape you wanted me to be. I told myself it was love.

But love isn’t supposed to feel like erasure.

Walking away wasn’t easy. It wasn’t just you I was leaving—it was the life we’d built, the dreams we’d shared, the version of myself that believed staying meant succeeding. I cried over that loss, over the guilt of breaking something I thought I’d promised to hold together. But in the end, I realized that staying in a place that made me small wasn’t a promise I owed anyone.

I used to think walking away was weakness. That choosing to leave meant I had failed. But now I see it for what it was: strength. It was strength to say, “This is not where I want to be.” Strength to imagine a life where my children see me whole and happy, instead of fractured and bitter. Strength to believe I deserved more.

There’s a strange kind of gratitude that comes with looking back on those years. Not for the pain or the moments I wish I could forget, but for what they taught me about myself. I am grateful for the love I gave, even when it wasn’t returned in the way I needed. I am grateful for the resilience I found in the quiet moments when I thought I had none left.

And most of all, I am grateful for the woman I became when I finally chose myself.

You will always be a part of my story. How could you not be? We have children who carry the best parts of us, and for that, I will always be thankful. But I’ve learned that gratitude and closure can exist together. I don’t have to hold on to the weight of us anymore.

Some days, I still feel the ache of what was lost. But more often, I feel the fullness of what I’ve gained: the ability to hear my own voice again, to make choices that are mine alone, to live a life that feels like it belongs to me.

And in that life, I have found the greatest gift of all: the quiet, unshakable belief that I am enough.

---

Featured Writer of the Week:

SALWA

I’m a writer behind Quietly Becoming, a psychology student, and a single mother navigating the beautiful messiness of life. My days are filled with reflection, resilience, and finding meaning in both the chaos and the quiet moments.

Through my writing, I explore themes of growth, mental health, unlearning, and the ongoing journey of becoming. I don’t claim to have all the answers - in fact, most of the time, I’m just figuring things out as I go. But I believe there’s value in sharing the process, in finding connection through our shared struggles and small victories.

My journey has been shaped by personal experiences, including parenting 2 children with special needs, balancing mental health challenges, and rediscovering who I am outside of the roles I play. These experiences have taught me resilience, compassion, and the power of showing up, even when it feels hard.

---

If you’d like your work to be featured in Let’s Get Personal, feel free to send me a private message!

---

---

---

Thanks for reading! All of my works and guests’ posts will remain free but if you enjoyed this read, you might want to consider tipping, to support the newsletter! Any amount is much appreciated!

https://buymeacoffee.com/zeepersonal