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Years ago, I found myself sitting across from my aunt, spilling my heart out about a relationship that was slowly draining the life out of me. I was frustrated, exhausted, and honestly, a little lost. At some point, I muttered the words, “We just have so much history together, you know?”
Now, why the hell did I say that?
My aunt looked me dead in my eyes—no blinking, no sugarcoating—and held my gaze for what felt like an eternity before she finally said: “History of what? Arguing? His disrespect? You always taking him back? The chaos? The headaches? Your stress? Your constant tears of embarrassment? This is the malarkey you call ‘history’ that you’re fighting so hard to hold onto?”
Then she sucked her teeth, took a sip of her tea, and left me sitting there in silence with a lump in my throat so big, I could barely breathe.
I wanted to cry—not because she was wrong, but because she was absolutely, gut-wrenchingly right.
When the Truth Hits Different
“The truth hurts.” We’ve all said it, heard it, and convinced ourselves we’re ready to handle it. But when my aunt spoke those words, I realized something: The truth only stings when you’ve been lying to yourself.
And oh, was I lying to myself.
I wasn’t holding onto that relationship because it was good for me. I wasn’t fighting for it because it made me happy. I was clinging to it because I was terrified of letting go. Of starting over. Of admitting to myself that the “history” I was so proud of was really just a string of broken promises, unhealed wounds, and my own fear of being alone. It wasn’t history—it was habit.
The Lesson I Didn’t Know I Needed
That day, my aunt’s bluntness cracked something open inside me. She taught me a lesson I didn’t fully understand at the time but would carry with me for years to come: Sometimes, the love we fight so hard to hold onto isn’t love at all. It’s comfort in chaos. It’s familiarity. It’s fear masquerading as loyalty.
Her words forced me to confront the truth I’d been avoiding: I was more committed to the idea of the relationship than the reality of it. And that reality was ugly.
A Love Letter to Truth-Tellers
My aunt wasn’t one to coddle me, but she always told me what I needed to hear—even when it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.
So, if you have someone in your life who speaks the truth to you, even when it’s uncomfortable—cherish them. Those are the people who love you enough to hold a mirror up to your life, even when you don’t want to see the reflection. They aren’t trying to hurt you. They’re trying to wake you up.
Why the Truth Matters
The truth has a funny way of being both a gift and a gut punch. It forces you to ask hard questions:
What are you really holding onto?
Is this “history” truly worth your peace?
Are you choosing love, or are you choosing fear?
When I finally let go of that relationship, I felt like I was free-falling into the unknown. But over time, I realized that the unknown wasn’t as scary as I thought—it was a blank canvas. And with every step forward, I started painting a life that actually felt like mine. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. And it all started with one hard truth.
I hope this story inspires you in some way. If nothing else, let it be a reminder to stop clinging to the things (or people) that don’t serve you. Sometimes, the hardest thing to do is the best thing for you.
Food for thought. Finish your plate so you can go be great ;)
P.S. I’m 38 now, and in a healthy, happy relationship, but I spent most of my twenties learning these lessons the hard way. If you want to read more about my journey, click here to grab my books.
Sometimes just knowing that another woman has been where you are—and made it through—can make all the difference in the world.
Much love,
