My Last Love Letter to You….

Today, my wonder takes me to the subject I’ve been running away from.

I loved a man for so long. I gave him my body and soul. I believed. I sacrificed everything just to be with him. And after 15 years…I was left with nothing but pain.

You know the feeling when you meet someone for the first time as a young person — no past, no kids, no life lessons yet lived, no scars yet earned. Just freedom, butterflies and pink glasses.

You see him through the energy you’ve poured into him. Yes, the signs are there — but who pays attention when love feels stronger?

Who listens to elders when they say, ‘’That’s not ok’’?

What do they know? They’ve lived longer, but they don’t understand.

Looking back, I suppose that maybe this was my path. No words from outside would have changed it — the realisation had to come from within.

Lesson learned.

Now, at 38, I sit in my car somewhere on Seaham beach, rain pouring down the windows, and at last I feel free. I am filled with gratitude for life.

As I sit here and look back, I realise I survived so that I could finally live fully.

Three years ago, I found the bravery to let go — and now, I am ready to give my pain a voice.

Not to overwhelm you, my dear reader, but to share something so deep that even I didn’t know it was there. Maybe it will help you somewhere along the way.

My walls of protection — built to keep me from feeling — rose so high that when they finally collapsed… I met myself for the first time in years.

So, the question I ask today: Does love come only after we prove our worth?

For years, my system was trained to believe:

love = responsibility

love = work

love = survival

love = sacrifice

love = holding others’ emotions

love = if I stop giving, everything falls apart

My body literally believed:

receiving = danger

letting someone help = losing control

being cared for = debt

depending on someone = threat

slowing down = collapse

All of this mixed together became:

Body= anxiety, panic attacks, breathlessness.

Today, after a crazy morning of getting the kids ready for school, washing, cleaning, shopping — I was meant to do more…but then I stopped. I came here to write. I started something else, but it didn’t feel right.

Not today.

This feeling, this subject, this energy had to see the light so I could release it from my system once and for all.

I try to reprogram myself every day — the version of me that overworks, that carries everything alone, that feels like I’ll break before I ever ask for help, because receiving still feels like failing.

And in some strange way, I keep expecting life to reward me only after I’ve suffered enough.

It’s a process, small steps, but at least now I choose me.

I decide, and I feel who I am.

The pain transformed Me. And now, after years of release, I am ready to thank it. It feels like I was pushed off a cliff — but instead od dying, I learned how to fly.

Is the grass greener on the other side? Is it worth it?

The pain of a breakup hurts only once. Being with someone who isn’t for you can hurt your whole life if you stay.

Is my perfect man out there? I don’t know. But now that I’ve regained myself and fallen back in love with life, I am willing to find out.

And do you know what the best part is?

I don’t need anyone to tell me I deserve. I already know.

Love isn’t like in the movies. It’s not fireworks or perfect lines — it’s balance, quiet understanding, and the space to be yourself. And even if I don’t find it out there, I already carry it within me.

I am whole.

I am enough.

Now, love looks different to me. It’s not about losing myself in someone else or proving my worth. It’s about quiet connection, shared respect, and being seen without having to perform.

I trust myself first. I honour my own needs, and I recognize that love can only be fully received when I am whole on my own.

I am learning to let joy in — without fear — and to welcome love that supports and uplifts, rather than drains me.

And you, my dear reader — if you are reading this — it means you’ve loved with all your heart, and sometimes it hurt more than you thought you could bear.

You’ve cried, you’ve fought, you’ve lost pieces of yourself along the way — and yet, here you are.

Still standing.

Still breathing.

Still capable of love.

That love doesn’t have to come from someone else. It lives inside you.

You are enough, even after the hardest heartbreaks.

You always were.

You always will be.

With Love

Patrycja

Writer and spiritual seeker. Embracing the wonder in healing, love and life. Storyteller on a journey of finding ‘’me’’ and who the real ‘’me’’ really is.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.