On leaving while you still love

“You said it, you finally listened to what had been wanting to be told.”“You left for your safety.”

Yes, but no one really talks about the pain of leaving whil you still love them.

As twisted and as insane as it might sound, love doesn’t care sometimes. You learn to love someone, even with their darkness. You learn to stay, to hope things will settle. You try to do the inner work, the hard conversations, until you realize you have lost yourself in the trying.

Leaving seems abrupt, like a final step or final decision. But leaving while you still love someone implies a war inside yourself. How can I allow all these behaviors, situations, fears, and still hope for the good days; brainwashing myself that the trips will be fine, that we have such good chemistry, and therefore it will be the antidote?

And the guilt. The guilt and shame of not holding my own boundaries to maintain the peace, avoid more conflict, and prevent a rupture. That feeling of failure because, by not being clear, the other person could not see the bleeding on my end, and independently of their choices and roles, they didn’t perceive it as a scream for a pause. Resulting in confusion.

Stepping out when both tried, both had hopes, yet nervous systems and mechanisms kept hurting rather than repairing each other. And the mind spirals: what if we could have improved? What if someday they chose team over proving their point? What if it’s just a matter of time?I stayed and kept engaging with a divided heart. One part simply wanted to escape: the panic, the anxiety, the fear of how they reacted during conflict, even the mismatch in how a future together could look. And then there’s the other part: the movie-like love story, the sexy, fiery shared moments, the passion, the trips, the inside jokes, the plans, the “when we live together…”

And I tried. I wanted to give this story another chance, even when my whole system was pointing in the opposite direction. Sleepless nights. A hyper-vigilant state as a constant. Fear of speaking out. Fear of telling the truth and ruining the dream.

The breaking point comes when, even with the pain of leaving; which feels like something you won’t be able to handle; the pain and anxiety of staying are already destroying your autonomy, your essence, and your footing in reality.

We don’t talk enough about the jarring sensation of saying, “I am stepping out of this relationship not out of love, but because I don’t feel safe anymore, and despite trying, we keep harming each other, and this is not healthy.”

And the mind tries to negotiate: “You are leaving when things get hard.” “This is giving up.” “This is avoidance.”...But the hard and very painful pill to swallow is that people can change, but they usually don’t when it’s their core essence. People can only see the reality they have the capacity to see. And when a relationship turns into “my reality versus yours,” there is a very high cost to powering through.

Choosing exit does not feel good. It does not bring instant peace. It burns, shatters, and aches so deeply. It comes with a new mountain of “now what?” Even if there was danger, the heart feels the terrifying void. People will say, “Be happy, you followed your gut,” but I amn not even able to fully integrate the state I find myself in right now. The heartache of a love that must part ways. The damage of staying where it was not safe, constantly overriding the nervous system to please. The autopsy of all the not-so-little situations that were signs to pause. The loops of doubt around choosing to leave.

Sharing your truth does not equal a happy closure. Leaving will feel awful. It is not about winning; it is about finally stopping the bleeding.

It is not about feeling empowered or strong enough to take the steps. It requires observing and acknowledging all the fear and all the ache, and continuing to walk.

Once you leave, there is so much to uncover, discover, and heal. So no, you won’t feel jolly or relieved, you will feel reckoned.

The key, and most precious thing you gain when you leave, is the clarity of listening to and acting on what you had been so scared to even look at, and the courage of doing what it takes to return to yourself.