Today, I had a heart-to-heart conversation with a friend because I was struggling. I found myself crying, wondering where I went wrong. Is this even real? I was having a “pity party for one” and hosting it all by myself. I’ve never liked dragging people into my depressed states—I suppose that’s why I’m so exhausted most of the time. Pretending that everything is okay takes a massive amount of energy.
Sometimes, you just need the tears to flow. When I look back on everything, I realize I’ve never truly cried about the situation. For three years, I was too angry to allow myself to feel. Instead, I buried my emotions deep. My friend reminded me that it’s okay to lose it once in a while—that I don’t have to hold it together all the time. No one is that strong, and that’s okay. She said it’s heartbreaking how some people took advantage of my generosity.
It amazes me how others can see my value when the people who mattered most never did. I guess I’m mourning the life I imagined—grieving the dreams I had for my future and the reality I live in now. And now that I finally have the time to feel, everything is catching up to me.
Being alone in this world feels so heavy. Humans weren’t made to walk this life in isolation. That’s what makes me the saddest—no longer having that person to dream with, to build a future alongside. I long for that connection again. I have so many things I want to accomplish with the rest of my life, and the idea of doing them all by myself is genuinely disheartening.
My friend kept repeating, “You matter.” She urged me to do things that are good for me. But how do you change a lifetime of putting others first? I’ve always placed myself at the bottom of the list. So when people say, “Do what makes you happy,” I’m lost. What is happiness? I honestly can’t remember the last time I felt it. So how do I find something I don’t even recognize?
“You matter” is a powerful statement. I never thought I did. I always believed my purpose was to be there for others, to serve their needs. Somehow, I keep attracting narcissistic people into my life—both in friendships and relationships—and I worry that I’ll fall into the same trap again. Right now, I feel too broken to trust myself with another relationship. Maybe I need to wait until I’ve healed. I know myself—once I’m in a relationship, I focus on it completely and lose sight of my own growth and wellbeing.
I matter to myself, which means I need to be cautious and intentional when I start dating again. I matter to my family. They’re deeply important to me and a source of strength. But even there, I need to make sure I’m not pouring from an empty cup—because that cup belongs to me first.
I’m trying to let the words sink in—I matter. Saying it makes me tear up every time. My ex-husband tried to take my life, twice. It scarred me so deeply that I began to believe I was disposable. So saying “I matter” feels like speaking something sacred but unfamiliar. It’s hard to believe, but I’m beginning to. I matter to people who love me—who would be devastated if something bad ever happened to me.
Now I’m left asking: What’s next? Should I keep hoping for someone to share my life with? Or should I stay single and continue this emotional purge until I feel whole again?
I don’t know the exact answer yet… but I know one thing:
I matter.
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