Live Life to Learn

Sometimes love ends not because we stop caring, but because holding on means losing ourselves. Begging someone to stay isn’t love, it’s forgetting your worth.

On the first morning of my 40s, I woke up seeing life differently. What felt like loss has become one of my greatest lessons — a reminder that vulnerability isn’t weakness, that growth begins with awareness, and that love expands when we learn to serve beyond ourselves.

A few unexpected words caught me off guard. Not because they hurt, but because they saw something I’ve kept hidden. In meditation, the feeling lingered, a quiet shift, a strange tremor. Maybe it was recognition.

What I thought I was missing in someone else, I’ve realized I’ve been craving in myself. This piece is about the quiet moment of recognizing emotional patterns, learning from fleeting connections, and choosing to show up fully for yourself.

For a few hours, I felt fully present—with someone new, and more importantly, with myself. This isn’t about what could have been, but about rediscovering how good it feels to simply feel again.

There comes a time when love is no longer love—it becomes self-sacrifice, a slow erosion of confidence, and a silent acceptance of things th

Regret is a tricky thing—it can feel like a lesson or a heavy burden. I’ve spent time wrestling with my regrets, but I’ve also realized that

I’ve spent my life searching for a love that feels real—one that isn’t just about words, but about presence, connection, and understanding.

I spent years shrinking myself in a marriage that made me feel small, unheard, and unloved. This is the moment I stop pretending—and start choosing myself.