💔 i’m tired of looking at love from the outside in

i held my breath, waiting for the day it would end between us.

In summer 2023, I moved from Mississauga, Ontario to Burnaby, British Columbia. The change felt like a chance at a new beginning — and closer to powerful beings: the mountains, ocean, and forests — who could hold me and heal the hurt from places and people who threatened my wellbeing.

I dreamed of living like other young women do: in a secure and beautiful home; to belong with friends and family; to contribute to the world with meaningful work; and for all the pieces to fall together, creating a gentle place where love, romance, and partnership to flourish. I left my hometown with this vision, hoping the joyful life I’d seen others enjoy, would welcome me, too.

In BC, I had one year before I’d run out of money, so I signed the first lease I could afford, a $900/month, private-bedroom with 20-foot windows and an easy commute to my new college. Immediately, I intuited this pretty veneer would entrap me as the live-in landlord’s next victim. Since I survived worse, I believed I could manage her neuroticism.

I wasn’t wrong — I am here to tell the tale. But my doe-eyed belief in the goodness of people and the magic of new places faded somewhere in that year, living with another narcissistic abuser. Feeling alone and desperate for protection, I walked through an old-growth forest and begged the trees for help. I reached out to one with an inviting, mossy patch.

A warm, root-shaped energy, pierced through my palm and crept up my left arm, shoulder, and into my chest. Slowly, it untangled literal knots of anxiety in my heart. That tender relief gave me hope I was heard and being helped by the universe.

In February 2024, I wrote a journal entry as though I lived presently in the future: that on May 21st, I was excited to start my new job as an executive assistant, for a mission-driven team and company, earning a healthy 5-figure income. And on May 21st, everything came true, exactly as I intended.

I finally felt ready to ask for what I truly desired.

I had been single for 6 years. During that time, I diligently worked to achieve my penultimate goal: to afford a home-base where I could safely be. On August 1st, I moved into a new home, with a kind roommate and her two silly cats. I embraced the time and space to rest, eat, create, and date.

On August 28th, I met him. His genuine pursuit, care, and desire for me was a fascinating and relieving departure from the lack of touch and closeness that marked my mid-20s. His big arms and beautiful tan skin, didn’t hurt, either.

And I knew it would be him. I saw him in visions over the previous two years, and my predictions were exactly right.

Anyone who’s met me, knows I am adamant to find my person. So when he came along — and confirmed he asked for a woman like me: with brown skin, long black hair, and gold hooped earrings — I welcomed that we were meant to meet.

Everything I could ever ask for was finally given to me: the ability to pay off debt and save money, peace of mind in a beautiful home, building expertise at an incredible company, and what I’ve always wanted most — a chance to enjoy life with a man I love.

Our time together was steady and fun. He introduced to me to foods, hobbies, and places that made me feel like a main character on a TV show. Our routine was filled with daily good mornings, lunch check-ins, evening facetime calls, and goodnights. Our dates included cactus club dinners, rounds of pool, movie nights, and recently, paddle-boarding adventures. Weekends, we would sleep cuddled-up, then enjoy the morning sunshine and breakfast together.

My office even moved closer to his — right around the corner. It felt like the universe was pushing us together. But just as much, I was holding my breath, dreading the moment it might pull us apart.

As much as my external world changed, my internal world struggled to match the lifestyle and persona I envisioned. His confidence, family, community, and upbringing was so different from mine. I didn’t know how my abused, poor, lonely, traumatized self could fit into his world of loving, wealthy, connected, and happy people.

I was too scared to casually meet his inner circle, to bond with his friends and family, only to have be ripped away if we didn’t work out. I needed assurance that he chose me — that he envisioned a life together — so I could carry some courage into his world and build lasting relationships with his people.

I felt like I had too many broken pieces I was still trying to glue back together. And I didn’t want to embarrass him — or myself — with my odd, nervous energy. I asked for time, and he gave me almost one year. I asked for his love, and he said he was half-in, half-out.

I knew then: I was waiting for something that would never come.

Yesterday, we spoke for what felt like endless hours about all the ways we were incompatible, and how unfixable all our problems seemed. I didn’t understand why the strength and independence I forged from trauma, didn’t show my capability to change and grow. I didn’t understand why my love and vulnerability weren’t enough to capture his heart and commitment.

He asked for time apart. For weeks, months, maybe years.

He used my faith in the universe as a segue — to have trust in this process: of breaking up and finding one another again, if the timing was right. That we should use this time to work on ourselves. And if our paths cross again, we would be better for one another.

But I know waiting. It lasts a lifetime.

There’s no longer wait than hoping to receive love from someone who was never capable or willing to give it to you. I remember this lesson from past lovers, friends, and family — people I always hoped to belong with, but have learned to move on from.

I wrote this piece because I couldn’t sleep. My bedsheets smell like his cologne. What used to be a soothing comfort is now a sore reminder that my days — and bed — are empty again.

Thank you, universe. For this experience. And for your eternal love & protection.

*Originally published July 13, 2025.