There’s this tender space i keep finding myself in. A quiet in-between. It’s not the life I used to know – the one shaped by codependency, where my worth felt wrapped in being needed, fixing others, or managing their emotions. But it’s also not yet the life I’m stepping into- the one where I trust myself, stand rooted in my wholeness, and love from a place of freedom, not fear. I’ve outgrown the patterns, but I’m still learning how to walk without them. And some days that’s hard. Really hard.
When the Old Patterns Come Calling
Every relationship I’ve known until now has asked me to abandon myself – sometimes is subtle ways, sometimes in obvious ones. I learned early on to attune to others, to sense their moods, to carry the weight of their pain as if it were my own. It made me feel useful. Safe. Like maybe if I could just keep everyone happy, I wouldn’t be left behind.
But that way of being has a cost. I didn’t know how to be in relationship without disappearing. I didn’t know how to stay rooted in my own experience while someone else was upset. I’d find myself fixing, pleasing, shrinking or shape-shifting – not because I wanted to, but because it felt like survival.
And even now, after years of healing work, those patterns come back when I’m around the people who taught me to be that way. the pull is so familiar. Like muscle memory. I lose myself before I even realize it’s happening.
Choosing Solitude Over Repetition
I’ve started to realize that, right now, solitude is the most honest choice I can make.
It’s not because I want to isolate. It’s not because I don’t long for connection. It’s because I love myself too much to keep re-entering relationships where I can’t yet show up as the version of me I’m becoming. I know how easy it is to fall back into these roles. to try to rescue. To get lost in trying to earn love instead of receiving it freely.
So, I’m staying still. I’m staying close to myself. Because this time. I don’t want to bring the old me into new relationships. I want to bring the healed me. The whole me. The version of me that doesn’t confuse closeness with enmeshment or love with obligation.
The Loneliness of Relearning
Here’s the thing no one tells you about healing from codependency: it can feel lonely. Because once you see the pattern, you can’t unsee it. You notice it everywhere- in your friendships, your family, your romantic relationships, even in the ways you relate to strangers.. And suddenly the world starts to look a lot different.
You start to realize how much of what we call “love” is actually rooted in control, fear, or performance. How much of our care is transactional. How often connection comes with unspoken contracts: “If I do this for you, will you stay? Will you see me? Will you love me back?” It can feel like you’re the only one trying to build something new. And without someone to model what a healthy, interdependent love looks like, it’s easy to feel lost.
But that’s also when something sacred begins to stir.
The Only One Who Can Teach Me is the Divine
There came a moment in my healing where I had to admit: I don’t know how to do this on my own. I know what I don’t want. I know which patterns I’m not willing to repeat. But I don’t yet have the tools, the wiring, or the lived experience of what it means to truly be free in love. To be in connection without collapsing. To be in care without controlling.
And I realized: the only one who can teach me is the Divine.
The only one who loves me without condition.
The only one doesn’t require me to shrink, to please , or to perform. the only one who sees me, knows me, and stays – with full presence and open arms.
So, I’ve begun turning toward that love. Not just in prayer, but in practice. In quiet moments of stillness. In the ways I speak to myself. In the choices I make to stay rooted in my truth even when it’s uncomfortable. I’m learning to be in relationship with the Divine- not as a distant force, but as an intimate presence within me.
Rewriting the Blueprint
When we’ve lived a life shaped by codependency, our nervous systems aren’t used to freedom. They’re used to chaos, urgency, and emotional caretaking. Safety feels unfamiliar. Wholeness feels foreign. Stillness can feel unbearable.
But in my relationship with the Divine, I’m starting to experience a different kind of safety. One that doesn’t come from controlling the people around me. One that doesn’t depend on being needed or appreciated. One that simply is- steady, unconditional, always available.
This love is not earned. It’s not fragile. It’s not here one day and gone the next.
The more I lean into it, the more I realize: this is the blueprint I’ve been searching for.
This is the kind of love I want to mirror in my relationships – not perfectly, but honestly. A love that honors each persons autonomy. That trust we’re capable of moving through hard things. that doesn’t rush into rescue or fix, but stays present in support.
I Want to Be Trusted, Not Fixed
There’s something sacred about being trusted when we’re struggling.
So often, people rush in to fix us- not because they don’t care, but because our pain makes them feel uncomfortable. They want to offer advice, solutions, or spiritual insights. They want us to feel better, so they can feel better.
But that kind of help can feel like mistrust. Like a subtle message: “You can’t handle this on your own. You need me to save you.” What I long for instead is to be trusted. Trusted to feel what I feel. Trusted to find my way through. Trusted to make mistakes, to learn, to grow at my own pace. I don’t want someone to take the pain away- I want someone to sit with me while I move though it.
And that’s exactly how the Divine meets me. No fixing. No rushing. Just presence. Just love.
Becoming the Person I Longed for
Every time I show up for myself in this way- by staying present instead of abandoning myself- I become the person I used to need. Every time I stop trying to earn love and simply receive it, I rewrite the story.
Every time I resist the urge to fix someone else and choose to trust them instead, I practice a new way of loving.
I’m not there yet. I still stumble. I still catch myself in old patterns. But I’m learning. I’m becoming.
And in the quiet of this in-between space, I’m starting to see: the freedom I long for is not out there. It’s inside me. It’s in my connection with the Divine. It’s in every small, brave choice to stay with myself, to listen deeply, and to love without conditions.
In Closing: This Sacred Pause
If you’re here too – in this in-between where the old no longer fits and the new hasn’t fully formed _ I want you to know you’re not alone.
This is a sacred pause.
It’s not a sign that you’re stuck or failing. It’s a sign that you’re healing. That you’re shedding what no longer serves you. That you’re making room for a new way of being to emerge.
Let the Divine teach you. Let love rewire you. Let solitude shape you – not as isolation, but as sacred preparation.
You are learning to be free. And that is a holy thing.
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