Letting go of a marriage that no longer served me was the bravest act of self-love I’ve ever done. For years, I held on tightly, convincing myself that if I just tried harder, if I compromised a little more, things would get better. I told myself that staying was the right thing to do, that it was what love required. But deep down, I knew the truth: I was losing myself.

Every argument, every moment of feeling unseen or unheard, chipped away at my spirit. I became a version of myself I didn’t recognize—quieter, smaller, more willing to settle for less than I deserved. I kept pretending I was okay, smiling through the cracks, but the weight of staying began to suffocate me.

Making the decision to leave wasn’t easy. It meant facing my fears—fear of failure, fear of judgment, fear of the unknown. It meant admitting to myself that love alone wasn’t enough to sustain a relationship. But as painful as it was to walk away, I knew in my heart that staying would hurt even more.

Letting go was terrifying, but it was also freeing. For the first time in years, I prioritized my own happiness. I chose to believe that I was worthy of love that uplifts rather than drains. I chose myself.

Now, I see that bravery isn’t just about big, bold moves. Sometimes, it’s about having the courage to let go, to trust that better things are waiting on the other side.