It’s funny how your friends can sometimes see your growth before you fully realize it yourself.
I get sent a lot of memes and videos by my closest friends, and it just so happened that this past weekend, two really stuck with me. One was about “when you protected your peace too much… now it’s just gym, work, cook, and text mom,” which is honestly so on point because that’s exactly what my days look like right now. Any minor inconvenience or update, I’m texting the family group chat — probably sending more updates than they do.
The other was my friend telling me she can tell I’ve been more and more closed off in this chapter of my life, and that she knows it’s going to change. She said she’s excited for my new space and environment because she knows I’ll open up again.
It was such a simple thing to hear, but it stayed with me. Because they really see me. They know the version of me underneath everything, and they want the best for me. And for the first time in a while, I realized that I want that for myself too.
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Looking back, it’s actually kind of crazy how much I’ve changed since I got dumped a few years ago. Every relationship, every situationship, every encounter gave me something. Not always in a nice or easy way, but something I carry with me now. So in a way, this really is character development, courtesy of my exes.
Growing up, I had a stronger need for validation and love from men than I would like to admit. A lot of that came from not receiving the kind of love I needed at home. I didn’t fully understand that until I started therapy in my mid-20s, but that’s when things started to click.
I had to work through a lot of internal narratives — not feeling good enough, needing to be chosen, fear of rejection, feeling needed, and being cheated on. That last one especially followed me into almost every relationship. I didn’t trust myself, so I didn’t trust the people I was with either. I would overthink, try to control situations, and hold onto things longer than I should have.
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At the same time, my relationship with my family was evolving. My mom and I went through our own journey and therapy together, and it completely changed our dynamic. We moved from misunderstandings, nagging, and resentment to something much more open and supportive. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it.
My relationship with my dad has been slower to mend. For a long time, it felt distant. But over time, I started to understand that the way he shows love is through acts of service. He handles things like my car, fills up my gas, picks me up from the airport, and makes sure everything is taken care of when I come home.
It helped me realize that love doesn’t always look the way you expect it to, and that our parents were also shaped by what they didn’t receive growing up.
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When I look back at my relationships, each one reflects a different version of me.
My first relationship was young and exciting. It was that puppy love phase where everything felt new, and I learned how much I loved exploring, planning dates, and trying new things with someone. But it was also where I experienced being cheated on for the first time. I stayed longer than I should have because I didn’t have enough self-love or trust in myself at that age. Eventually, I couldn’t deal with the secrecy, the lies, and the constant anxiety, so I let it go. Looking back, I wish I had taken the time to properly heal from that.
My second relationship was the complete opposite. He was kind, sweet, and consistent. We had a lot of good memories, shared music, and spent time with friends. But my insecurities still showed up at times, and I started to realize we lacked direction and ambition. We were young, around 21, and eventually the relationship just fizzled out.
My third relationship was probably the hardest one. He was older, and it was the first time I experienced someone being controlling and manipulative. It brought out a side of me I didn’t recognize. There were constant arguments, and I felt like I was shrinking in the relationship. I’ve never been someone who raises their voice, but that relationship pushed me to that point. It lasted two years, which was too long, but it taught me very clearly what I do not want in a partner.
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After that, I went through a phase of situationships in my mid-20s, and honestly, that might have been even more confusing. I told myself I could handle something casual, that I was the “cool girl” who didn’t need labels, but that wasn’t true at all.
The uncertainty, the grey area, the push and pull — it made me anxious and unfocused. Even when things felt good in the moment, I found myself wanting more than they were able to give. I kept bending over backwards for something that was never going to meet me fully.
Eventually, cutting it off completely was the best thing I did for myself.
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My last relationship was someone I had known since I was 13. We had that kind of long-term, on-and-off connection — a crush when we were younger that turned into a friendship where we would check in on each other every now and then. It always felt like we were slightly out of sync. One of us would be single, the other would be dating, and it never quite lined up.
Until it finally did.
That summer, he decided he wanted to pursue something more seriously. I remember feeling hesitant at first because it was new to me — the idea of growing something out of a friendship. But I could tell he really wanted to try. He was nervous, in a genuine way, like he wanted to show up as the best partner he could be for me.
And for a while, I thought maybe this could be different.
But every now and then, I felt like something was missing. I couldn’t fully explain it at the time, but looking back, I think I was missing depth. I was missing emotional presence.
What I’ve come to understand is that you can only meet someone as deeply as they know themselves.
We ended because he needed time to work on himself, and at that point I had already started my own healing journey. I handled it with a lot more empathy and clarity than I would have before.
But not long after, I found out he was already seeing someone else. And honestly, instead of being devastated, I felt clarity. It showed me everything I needed to know, and I was able to fully let go.
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Looking back at all of this, I realized the common thread wasn’t just the people I was choosing, but also what I was allowing — what I said yes to, what I ignored, and what I tried to make work even when it didn’t feel right.
Now, I choose differently. I choose my peace, my independence, and my own growth. I’ve learned how to be alone without feeling like something is missing.
And the more I grow, the more selective I become. Not in a guarded way, but in a way that reflects self-respect. If I’m choosing someone to build a future with, I’m going to take my time and choose carefully.
I’m not in a rush anymore. I have things I want to build on my own, and a life I’m creating for myself.
And when I do meet someone, it won’t be because I need them. It’ll be because they add to what I already have.
See you in the next note,
— Janice
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Loved this <3 I found many pieces of myself in your words. I recently had a conversation with a friend about relationships and where I stand with it all, and I realised I feel quite content as I am. Romance just isn’t a priority for me right now, and I really value my independence.
Like you, I don’t feel any sense of urgency. If it happens, that’s lovely, but I’m not chasing it. There are other things I want to focus on first, and that feels enough at the moment.
I totally feel this. Going through a bunch of 2+ years relationships and situationships along with a long period of being alone molded me into the way I am now. Take less shit and very independent. Not a lot of partners can handle that with grace and it makes it easier to weed out the ones who fall short of our standards. Even now, I miss having long stretches of alone time and hate compromising since it means lowering my standards (mostly for household junk like how often to clean certain areas).