'Habituationships' 🫢

There’s a trail behind me.

Not the kind you see on maps…
not paved, not named, not marked with mile signs.

Just pieces.

Little glowing fragments of a heart that kept saying,
“Maybe this time.”

And every time I fell in love, or something that looked like it from far away...
I left something behind.

A laugh here.
A dream there.
A version of myself that believed excitement could turn into safety.

Because in the beginning?
I’m always magic.

I’m the road trip with no destination.
The deep talks at midnight.
The goofy dancing in the kitchen.
The “let’s dream bigger than our pasts” energy.

I’m the spark.

And people love sparks.

They love the warmth.
The glow.
The way I make life feel less heavy and more possible.

But sparks… eventually touch something real.

Boundaries.
Trauma.
Expectations.
Fear.

Reality shows up like an uninvited guest and suddenly the same light that once felt beautiful feels… overwhelming.

And that’s usually when it happens.

The shift.

Where I stop being “fun” and start being “a lot.”
Where my depth becomes “too emotional.”
Where my honesty becomes “pressure.”
Where my desire for real love becomes “too much.”

Too much heart.
Too much hope.
Too much presence.
Too much need for something lasting.

And just like that...
the place where I thought we were building something becomes another spot on the trail.

Another piece left behind.

Another moment where I thought:

“This is it.”
“This one sees me.”
“This one can handle the real version of me, not just the highlight reel.”

But hope… when it keeps meeting disappointment… starts to feel like a setup.

Like you’re the punchline to a joke you didn’t know you were in.

Because the truth is,
I never wanted to be someone’s vacation.

I wanted to be someone’s home.

But somewhere along the way, I started wondering if my love; my real, grounded, grown love, feels heavier than people expect.

Maybe they wanted the laughter without the healing.
The fun without the depth.
The connection without the commitment.

Maybe they loved the spark…

…but not the fire that requires tending.

Still, I don’t regret the trail.

Every piece of my heart that was left behind was real.

And even though hope has handed me disappointment more times than I’d like to admit…

I’m still here.

Still loving.
Still believing.
Still carrying what’s left of my heart forward.

And maybe one day…

someone won’t see “too much.”

They’ll see:

“She's Her..."