The Ones We Called Home: Letting Go of People Who Were Never Meant to Stay

Let me talk to the version of you who’s still holding on.

The version who keeps rereading the texts.
Who replays the conversations in your head, trying to figure out what was real and what was just convenience masked as care.
The version of you who thought they were “different” — that this one wouldn’t be like the others.

Yeah. This one’s for her.

Because we don’t talk enough about the grief that comes from outgrowing people we once thought were soulmates.
We don’t talk enough about the heartbreak that comes from losing someone who never physically touched us, but spiritually rearranged us.

We call it “friendship.”
We call it “chemistry.”
We call it “just someone I can always talk to.”

But what it really was… was an emotional tether. A trauma bond dressed in spiritual clothing. A space that felt like home until you realized it was built on borrowed bricks.

Let’s Call It What It Was

Sometimes we meet people who feel like medicine.
They show up right when we’re unraveling — listening, affirming, speaking to the little girl in us who’s never been seen.
It feels divine. It feels safe. It feels ordained.

But here’s the thing about medicine — when misused, it becomes poison.

And sometimes, what feels familiar ain't safe. It’s just familiar.
And because chaos has always felt like home, we mistake the storm for something sacred.

Let’s be real:
They said the right things. They showed up when others disappeared. They gave just enough to make you think this was it.

But deep down? Something never quite settled.
Your intuition whispered. Your spirit twitched. But you kept quiet, hoping maybe — just maybe — you were wrong this time.

Sis, you weren’t wrong.
You were just hoping this one would love you enough not to lie. Not to mislead. Not to weaponize your vulnerability.

The Ache of Unspoken Betrayal

There’s a special kind of pain that comes from people who never put their hands on you, but still left bruises.

They never said they were in love. But they behaved like they were.
They never promised forever. But their actions said you mattered.

And so you gave.
Your time. Your secrets. Your softness.
You made space for them in places you were still healing — and they didn’t just visit, they moved in.

Then one day, you saw it.
The inconsistencies. The half-truths. The ways they twisted your words to dodge accountability.
The passive-aggressive digs when you dared to speak your truth.
The smirks when you cried. The silence when you needed support the most.

And the hardest part?
They knew exactly what they were doing.

Let’s Talk Accountability — Yours and Theirs

Now let’s be honest about you.
You knew. Somewhere deep in your gut, you always knew.
You saw the red flags.
You made excuses.
You loved their potential more than their reality.

That doesn’t make you weak.
That makes you human.
That makes you a woman who loved from her wounds, not her wisdom.

But that ends today.

You are no longer required to hold space for people who can’t even hold truth.
You don’t owe your peace to anyone who mistook your loyalty for leverage.
You don’t have to decode manipulation in the name of “keeping the bond.”

This isn’t just about them being toxic.
This is about you learning to stop sipping poison and calling it intimacy.

Choosing Peace Over Pattern

Here’s the truth that hurts and heals:

Some people come into your life just to teach you the lesson your mama never could, because she didn’t heal it herself.

Some connections are assignments.
Some were mirrors — not partners.
Some were karmic — not kindred.

And once you learn the lesson?
You’re not required to stay in the classroom.

You’re allowed to exit gracefully. To block without guilt. To cry and still move on.
To forgive and still create distance.
To honor the moments that were sweet — and still never go back.

Because peace is a choice. And now, so are you.

Final Word: You Don’t Need Closure From Them — You Are the Closure

Stop looking for apologies from people who can’t even admit the damage they did.
Stop waiting for clarity from someone who knew exactly what they were doing when they blurred the lines.

You don’t need to be explained.
You don’t need to be understood by people who were committed to misunderstanding you.

You are the closure.
You are the proof.
You are the ending and the beginning.

So stand tall. Walk away. Wipe your tears with dignity.
And when you miss them? Remind yourself of who you had to become to finally let them go.

 WRITING EXERCISE: Closure Without Contact

Prompt #1:
What was the turning point for you?
Describe the moment when you realized you had to let go. What did your body feel? What did your spirit say?

Prompt #2:
What parts of yourself did you ignore or silence to stay connected to this person?
Write a love letter to those parts and welcome them back home.

Prompt #3:
Finish this sentence:
“I’m choosing me now because…”

 
Still healing. Still holy. Still not explaining myself.
— Coach E