There’s something wild that happens when you know your intuition is speaking to you—and you go against it anyway. Not because you’re afraid. Not because you don’t hear it. But because you love so hard that you’re willing to silence your knowing for the chance that maybe, just maybe, the magic you felt at the start could come back.
I didn’t ignore my intuition out of fear. I knew. Three months in, I could feel the truth pulsing in my body: something wasn’t aligned. But I kept trying to hold on—not to a person, but to a feeling. To who we were in the beginning. That version of love was so potent, so soul-shaking, that I wanted to preserve it, even if it had already shifted into something else.
But in doing that, I started creating fear.
Not the kind that comes from within—but the kind passed down. The kind I saw in other women.
Patterns. Projections. Wounds. The ones that say “don’t trust yourself—he might leave” or “just wait, it might come back.”
I wasn’t acting from fear—I was creating it, trying to make sense of why I was betraying my knowing.
But here’s the wild part:
I was right the whole time.
And I needed to live the detour to trust myself deeply.
Because trusting your intuition isn’t always a graceful act.
Sometimes it comes after you’ve watched yourself not trust it, again and again.
Until one day, you break.
And not from pain—but from clarity.
From the unshakable realization that your body never lied to you. Your spirit never wavered. You just weren’t ready to let go.
I forgive myself for that.
I honor the woman who loved so fully she tried to protect the illusion of what was.
But I also bow to the woman rising in me now—the one who trusts herself even when it’s inconvenient.
Even when it means walking away from love that once felt like home.
This isn’t about regret.
This is about reclamation.
Of clarity. Of trust. Of self.
And so I say to the version of me who held on:
You weren’t wrong. You were just in love.
You weren’t weak. You were learning.
You weren’t lost. You were remembering.
And now—
You’re free.
