Leaving wasn’t giving up; staying would have been. For too long, I convinced myself that staying was the stronger choice, that endurance was proof of love. I told myself that if I just tried harder, if I just bent a little more, things would change. But they didn’t. And with each day, I was disappearing—losing pieces of myself to a relationship that no longer felt like home.

The moment I finally walked away, I realized something powerful: choosing myself wasn’t selfish. It was survival. I had spent years making excuses, ignoring my own needs, and hoping that love alone could fix what was broken. But love, real love, doesn’t require self-sacrifice. It doesn’t ask you to dim your light or silence your voice just to keep the peace.

So I left—not because I was weak, but because I was finally strong enough to say, “Enough.” Strong enough to admit that I deserved more. Strong enough to put myself first for the first time in years.

That choice was long overdue, but I don’t regret the time it took me to get here. I had to go through the storm to appreciate the sunlight. I had to lose myself to finally understand my worth.

Now, I stand on the other side, not broken, not bitter, but free. And for the first time in a long time, I am exactly where I am meant to be.