Kathleen is a bright, loyal woman who wore her heart on her sleeve. She had a friend, Christine, who she would drop anything for—rides to the airport at 5 a.m., emotional support calls at midnight, showing up for every birthday, breakup, and breakthrough. Kathleen was all in. To her, friendship was a sacred bond, and she believed in showing up fully. But over time, a painful pattern emerged. Christine didn’t return that energy. Plans were canceled last-minute, texts went unanswered for days, and Kathleen only heard from her when she needed something. One afternoon, after another forgotten commitment, the truth hit her hard—she had made Christine a priority, while she had made her an option.
Being made an option when you’ve given someone your heart — whether in friendship, family, or love — cuts deeply. It evokes feelings of confusion, rejection, and even self-doubt. You start questioning your worth, wondering if you expected too much, or worse, if you’re just too much. When you’re all in, it’s not because you’re desperate or needy — it’s because you value connection. You believe in commitment, reciprocity, and mutual care. You go the extra mile not for validation, but because it’s how you express love and loyalty.
But when that energy isn’t returned, it’s vital to pause and take inventory. Ask yourself: Why am I showing up like this for someone who consistently fails to show up for me? Sometimes, we over invest in people because we’re hoping they’ll finally see our worth, or because we’re afraid of being alone. Other times, it’s a matter of habit — we’re used to being the giver, the fixer, the one who holds things together. But relationships aren’t meant to be lopsided. You can’t carry connection on your back forever.
“Your capacity to love deeply is not the problem. It’s a gift — but only when shared with those who can hold it with care. ”
When this happens, the first step is acceptance. Not to resign yourself to pain, but to clearly see what is. Notice the patterns. Recognize who initiates, who follows through, and who benefits most. From there, set boundaries. It doesn’t have to be dramatic or spiteful. Sometimes, it simply means pulling back your energy and reinvesting it where it's returned. It’s choosing self-respect over silent suffering.
Most importantly, remember this: your capacity to love deeply is not the problem. It’s a gift — but only when shared with those who can hold it with care. Let this be a turning point. Choose to prioritize those who prioritize you. And like Kathleen eventually did, learn to say goodbye to those who only show up when it’s convenient for them. Not out of anger—but out of love for yourself.
Realizing it may be time to let go is often the hardest part. You hold on, hoping things will shift, that the person will notice your effort and rise to meet it. But eventually, you come to understand that holding on is costing you more than it’s giving. Letting go doesn’t mean you stop caring, it means you start caring more about your own peace. It’s a conscious choice to stop chasing, to stop explaining, and to stop shrinking yourself for someone who can’t or won’t meet you halfway.
Begin the process by creating space emotionally, mentally, and sometimes physically. Limit your availability. Resist the urge to check in or seek validation. Journal your feelings, talk to a trusted friend or therapist, and reaffirm that your worth isn’t determined by who stays, but by how you choose to honor yourself.
Letting go isn’t always loud or final, it’s often quiet and steady, like finally releasing a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. And in that release, you make room for the people who see you, choose you, and value you the way you deserve.