Lent 2025 Day 23: Losing, Loving, and Letting Go

“Life is amazing.  And then it’s awful. And then it’s amazing again. And in between the amazing and the awful it’s ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and exhale during the ordinary. That’s just living heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it’s breathtakingly beautiful.” -- LR Knost

Isn't it wild how you can love someone so completely—build dreams with them, imagine a shared future—and then, just like that, they want nothing to do with you? One day you're planning vacations, homes, forever—and the next, they'd be perfectly fine with you falling off the face of the Earth.

That's some devastating, soul-crushing shit. And it leaves you wondering: Was it even real? Were their feelings genuine, or were you just convenient? Replaceable? Disposable? 

People's feelings are complicated. They shift like clouds in the sky—some days bright, some days stormy, some gone without warning. After a breakup, I spiral into that raw space of self-doubt. I start questioning everything—my worth, my choices, my instincts. 

Where does that leave me? 

Trying to figure out what kind of love I deserve. I might be a running joke in my lesbian friend group. But behind that humor is someone still healing. This last breakup hit me differently. I’ve always had confidence. I know who I am. But this time, it felt like it cracked something in me—shook my foundation. Maybe it’s midlife. Maybe it’s menopause. Maybe it’s the grief of losing something you thought would be solid. 

Whatever it is, it’s real. And it’s taken every ounce of emotional grit I have to get back to a place where I can say: 

I am enough. 

Losing yourself takes seconds. Finding yourself again? That takes time. And truthfully, the version of you that returns might not be the one you lost. Hopefully, they're wiser. Stronger. Softer in the right places. Hardened only where they need protection. 

Time does heal. But not the way we want it to. Healing doesn’t erase the hurt. It teaches us how to carry it. 

Back when I worked with youth, I used to do this activity to talk about bullying and emotional wounds. I’d give everyone a heart-shaped piece of paper—bright, smooth, and whole. Then I’d tell them to crumple it, stomp on it, even throw it on the ground—but not to tear it. Then I’d say: “Now say sorry to the heart. Try to make it look like it did before.” 

And of course, they’d try. They’d smooth it out. Press it flat. But it never looked the same. The creases stayed. The damage was done. I’d say, “This is what words can do. Even if you say sorry, the imprint remains. The scars stay.” 

That’s how I feel after a breakup. That’s how I feel right now. Crumpled, but not torn. Still whole—but different. 

And the truth is, goodbyes suck. 

There’s no poetic way to put it. They just do. Even when the relationship wasn’t working. Even when it wasn’t healthy. Even when you know it’s the right choice. 

Some people aren’t right for you. And that’s okay. I’m finally starting to accept that. And even after everything—I still hope the best for my ex. That’s not me being some kind of saint. That’s me choosing peace. Choosing release. Choosing to believe that just because it didn’t work between us doesn’t mean she doesn’t deserve love and joy somewhere else. Maybe that’s what healing looks like. Not erasing the pain. But learning to carry it. Learning to let go. 

 “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” – Psalm 147:3 

Lenten Reflection: What We Carry 

🔹 Where am I still carrying grief disguised as guilt?  

🔹 What emotional scars am I trying to smooth out?  

🔹 Am I willing to grow—even when it means letting go? 

Psalm 147:3 reminds us: He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Even in our lowest, loneliest, most rejected moments—we are not alone. This Lent, may we allow grief to shape us, not shatter us. May we become people of deeper empathy, stronger boundaries, and softer hearts. 

As above, so below. 

Take care of yourselves and take care of each other.

📖 More reflections at flanneldiaries.com  

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