The most difficult decision of my life was to put an end to a story that wasn’t over. This is how the journey of healing after breakup began.

I grew up with the idea that love is all you need.

That the love between two people is enough to move mountains and conquer all difficulties.

I craved that kind of love my whole life.

I craved to be consumed by love, by lust, by sleepless nights and stomach butterflies.

I spent my teen years singing along to love songs and crying over romantic movies.

I searched for that in each partner I had over the years.

Even when I said “I love you” in my 20s, I wasn’t quite sure it was that kind of love.

Until I found it.

After many failed attempts and short relationships, after being ditched or doing the ditching, I found it.

It felt different. There was no rush. It felt new, unlike anything I had experienced before.

Our conversations were mature and for the first time I felt intellectually stimulated by a man I was also deeply attracted to.

I felt free to be myself, without wanting to change any part of who I was – my beliefs, my lifestyle or even my daily activities. I had built an independent life and I was glad to find a man who was also fully independent. We didn’t merge our lives; we kept our individual identities intact.

We prided ourselves on our interdependence – being separate while being together.

At least, that was the story we told ourselves…

In reality, freedom and independence translated into separation. Not merging our lives felt like being in a long-distance relationship while living under the same roof. We kept our identities intact because, truthfully, we didn’t have much in common. We had different interests, different ways of spending time.

We were united by a deep, consuming love, yet it was also triggering our wounds and messing with our heads.

What we thought was interdependence slid into co-dependence and avoidance. We danced with our deepest traumas. We split a couple of times, the dynamic flipping each time. I chased him and pushed him away; when I stepped back, he panicked and ran. My anxiety spiked to a level I had never known. I faced my darkest demons and knew this wasn’t right for my mental health.

I confused love with suffering, because that’s what I’d seen in the movies: deep love equals deep pain. I was stuck, not knowing whether to stay or go. I felt numb. It was too much.

So I turned to God. I started praying. I asked for guidance, to be shown the best way forward, because from where I stood on Earth I couldn’t see the whole picture.

I wanted it to be the love. But I couldn’t comprehend why it was so hard.

And so, I made the decision to end the story, even though I knew it wasn’t really over.

A part of me wanted him to fight for me, for us. But his efforts were minimal. We got back together a couple of times. We tried friendship and unconditional support. We allowed time to heal us both, to mend the wounds.

I went into the deepest healing journey, with coaching, therapy and every tool I could find to bring myself back to light. I filled the pages of six journals in six months. I uncovered and understood many layers of my wounds and stepped into a new level of womanhood. I was the same, yet not the same.

After a heart-to-heart conversation and a family constellations session that revealed my yearning, we gave it another shot. The last one.

But nothing changes if nothing changes. Yes, our love was still there. But we couldn’t just pick up the story where we left it. I had changed. He hadn’t. We were worlds apart. When I suggested going on a healing journey together, I was met with resistance. He wasn’t ready.

I told him I thought we would only make each other unhappy, because we couldn’t offer one another what we wanted and deserved. I wanted him to step up, to be the man I was ready for. Until I realized he doesn’t owe me that. He doesn’t owe me change, or the fulfillment of his potential the way I envision it.

Our love was there. But it wasn’t enough.

Contrary to what movies and songs told me all my life, love is not all you need.

You need maturity and emotional safety. You need consistency and the mutual choosing of each other, over and over again. You need inner peace and unconditionally clear communication. Healing after breakup taught me this.

This time, I didn’t chase. And he left.

Deep down, it was still my decision, even if he put it in a text message.

It was the hardest decision of my life yet also the easiest.

Because this time, I chose myself.

Later, I created the Heart Healing with Journaling program, where the first group of women has already concluded the journey and had tremendous results and transformations. For me, learning and growing has been the empowering path to choosing myself. This is not the answer for everyone. The answer is hidden in your heart and the only way to hear it is to heal. I invested a year and a half, thousands of dollars and many journaling pages into healing. I wanted to make this easier for women and help them navigate the path with a level of support that feels safe and nurturing. The new round of Heart Healing with Journaling is opening for registration soon.

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This blog post is part of a personal challenge: for six months, I am returning to blogging with weekly posts. My intention is to share not just stories, but also the deeper reasoning behind journaling and storytelling as tools for clarity and growth. Writing in this way is how I hold myself accountable to the same practice I guide others through: making space to process, reflect, and transform on the page.