learning to heal through connection.

for the lover who has endured years of disappointment, hurt and deceit - finding her way back into healthy and healing connections.

the innate desire for love never leaves us. through all the things we endure - we enter connections with the deepest thoughts that it could potentially be the one. for me, the idea of love never had the white picket fence, perfect partner and kids. it always had something real, tangible and most importantly - spiritually healing. as i recognize the love i always desired was also met with fear of what it is truly like to be seen, heard and most importantly valued, it never donned on me until i was put in a position to heal - in real time.

dating has always been a whirlwind for me - connecting with people who were never truly ready for the love i had to give. people often enjoy, fall into deep like and even become obsessed with the idea of me. a spiritual woman, natural care taker and most importantly - the light often in dark times. but what i realized as a consistent pattern in these connections was although they felt so intense, so real and so irreplaceable - they were often missing the most important factors - commitment & consistency.

see, i could blame myself - for falling in love with potential. but what happens when the potential literally feels like reality? what happens when the parts of me that are often hidden, or bruised - simply just wants to feel the euphoria of deep connection and desire? navigating dating in my late 20’s and early 30’s has been nothing shy of a mirror.

i didn’t just learn about love through fairy tales or sweet gestures. i learned through the ache of being almost-chosen. through late night conversations that felt intimate but never became commitment. i learned through men who admired my softness but weren’t ready to protect it. they loved the way i understood them, prayed for them, held space for them, but when it came time to show up for me, their hands were suddenly empty.

there were connections that felt like a promise — the kind that made me believe we were building something real. we’d talk about future plans, share vulnerable moments, speak like we were already a unit. he’d tell me how rare i was, how much he respected me, how he didn’t want to lose me. but months would pass and those words never became actions. i’d find myself trying to fill in the gaps with hope, convincing myself that the potential was enough to wait on.

i remember how many times i mistook emotional intensity for alignment. how easily i accepted being half-loved because the affection felt deep. how i believed showing patience would eventually be rewarded with consistency. i tried to be understanding, gentle, loyal, supportive — even when those parts of me weren’t being held with the same level of care.

loving with a big heart can make even red flags look like small stains. you start to explain the harm away. “he’s healing,” “he’s not used to someone like me,” “maybe he just needs time.” i was loving men who weren’t bad people, but they were still incapable of loving me in a way that honored who i was. i wasn’t being disrespected, but i wasn’t being emotionally considered either. and that’s still a form of neglect, just quieter.

looking back, i realize i was afraid to let go of something that felt meaningful, even if it wasn’t sustainable. i didn’t want to admit that the version of him i was in love with only existed in theory — in the future i hoped we would grow into, not the present he was actually offering. i was committed to the idea of us, not the reality of him.

for a long time, i thought my willingness to hold on proved my loyalty. now i see it differently — it showed me where i abandoned myself in the name of love. where i let someone’s potential outweigh my own needs. where i poured into someone so deeply that i never stopped to ask if they were pouring into me at all.

and now, for the first time, love feels less like a rescue and more like a place i can rest. not a performance. not a fantasy. not a test i have to pass to be chosen. real love feels like breathing without monitoring each inhale. it feels like being able to exist without convincing someone i’m worthy of softness.

what i didn’t realize before is that being loved in a healthy way requires you to believe you deserve it. when a man shows up with patience, consistency and intention, it forces you to confront every part of yourself that never learned how to receive without fear. you begin to notice all the ways you’ve normalized being tolerated instead of protected, admired without ever being supported, desired without being cared for.

receiving love after surviving disappointment is a spiritual exchange. the body reacts before the mind does. it wants to flinch at affection, over-explain peace, and question why comfort feels so easy. i had to learn that love is not supposed to feel chaotic. it’s not meant to test your intuition, drain your spirit, or leave you praying that someone sees your value. love is not a gamble. it’s a knowing.

i used to confuse intensity with alignment. i thought attention meant devotion. i thought desire meant protection. i thought chemistry meant stability. but now i’m learning that love without consistency is a spark with no flame, and a spark is not enough to warm a home, nurture a life or grow anything lasting.

i’m realizing that the love i prayed for doesn’t ask me to shrink. it doesn’t feed off my healing nature while giving me nothing to lean on. it doesn’t see me as a project to fix, a muse to romanticize or a lesson to learn from. it sees me, wholly, as a woman worthy of softness, safety and growth.

healing through connection hasn’t been about finding the perfect person. it’s been about becoming the version of myself who can handle being loved correctly. i’m not rushing to prove my value. i’m not folding myself into the shape of someone else’s comfort. i’m not treating love like something i have to earn through endurance. i want a love that speaks softly, arrives fully and stays consistently. a love that reaches for me with intention. a love that feels like a place i can return to — without losing myself on the way.

maybe real love is just two people deciding to choose each other with tenderness. maybe it’s not the drama, the chase, or the push and pull we’ve convinced ourselves is passion. maybe it’s quiet, grounded, and intentional. maybe it’s patient enough to unfold instead of rushing to consume.

i used to want love to sweep me away. now, i want love that brings me home. i’m no longer chasing love that feels like escape. i’m choosing love that feels like a return to who i’ve always been.

love always,

kayana xo.