Change for the Better

I am sure so many of us have relationships that we have lost.

Friends we no longer talk to. Relationships that have ended. Siblings we have needed space from. Coworkers who have left. People we once thought would be in our lives forever who, for one reason or another, simply aren't anymore.

Regardless of how it happened, it doesn't mean those endings haven't hurt us.

I remember when I broke up with my long-term boyfriend from high school. He was the person I honestly thought I was going to spend my life with. We had been together for over five years—through most of high school, through so many of our "firsts," and I had even planned to wait for him while he went on his mission.

I loved him.

The week after we broke up, I hadn't spoken to him or seen him. I'll never forget sitting in the Arctic Circle parking lot with my best friend, eating ice cream shakes, when she looked at me and said:

"I can't believe you just ended things and have no desire to talk to him. I don't know how you can do that."

I've thought about that comment many times throughout my life. Because there was some truth to it. When something ends in my life, I have this ability to turn the page and keep moving forward.

That doesn't mean my heart wasn't broken. It doesn't mean I didn't miss him. It doesn't mean there weren't moments when I wanted to pick up the phone and call him.

But somewhere deep inside of me, I knew something with absolute certainty:

That chapter of my life was over.

And knowing that made it easier to turn the page.

It has taken me many years to recognize that as a strength.

There is something inside of me that knows when something, or someone, is no longer meant to continue with me. And when I finally know, I know.

That doesn't erase what the relationship meant.

I still think about my high school boyfriend occasionally. We had a lot of fun. We grew up together in a lot of ways. We shared more than five years of my life and so many important firsts. I don't regret those years. I can look back now and appreciate what that relationship gave me and what I learned from it without believing it needed to last forever.

I think sometimes we confuse something ending with something having been a mistake.

It wasn't a mistake.

It was a chapter.

And chapters are allowed to end.

That's something I've had to learn over and over again in my life.

Because when someone shows up in your life and isn't what you need them to be and they aren't willing or able to meet you somewhere different, you can't keep forcing them to fit into your story.

No matter how much you love them. No matter how badly you want them there. No matter how much history you share.

We like to believe that if we love someone enough, explain ourselves enough, forgive enough, give enough chances, or wait long enough, eventually something will change.

Sometimes it does.

But sometimes people don't change because they don't believe anything needs to change. And you cannot heal, grow, communicate, or do the work for another person.

At some point, you have to decide whether you're going to keep waiting for someone else to change or allow your own life to change instead.

A couple of years ago, I found myself in one of the darkest periods of my life. I was deeply depressed, and what made it especially difficult was that it felt like the light inside of me had disappeared.

I had no motivation to continue building my business. I wasn't excited about setting new goals. I didn't feel like myself. There had been betrayal. There had been hurt. There were people and circumstances around me that had become incredibly toxic, and for a while, I allowed what had happened to take pieces of me with it.

There were moments when I genuinely wondered whether I had anything left to give.

But those months also taught me a lot.

They taught me who could sit beside me when life wasn't pretty.

They taught me who wanted to see me grow and who was more comfortable when I stayed small.

They taught me that sometimes betrayal isn't only an ending.

Sometimes it's an unveiling.

Eventually, I started picking myself back up.

Little by little.

I started finding pieces of myself again. I started dreaming again. I started setting goals again. I started recognizing the person looking back at me.

And once again, I turned the page.

Not because what happened didn't matter.

Not because it didn't hurt.

Not because I suddenly stopped caring.

But because I realized I wasn't meant to stay on that page forever.

There are people I have loved deeply who are no longer part of my life. There are relationships I once thought would last forever that didn't. There are versions of my life I was absolutely certain were going to happen that never did.

And I'm learning to be okay with that. Because sometimes life not working out according to plan isn't the tragedy we think it is.

Sometimes the relationship ending is what finally gives you room to find yourself again.

Sometimes losing the friendship makes space for healthier ones.

Sometimes walking away from what is familiar opens the door to something you never would have chosen because you were too busy holding onto what you already knew.

Sometimes the thing you fought the hardest to keep was the very thing keeping you from where you were supposed to go next.

We spend so much time being afraid of change because we associate change with loss. But change can also mean growth.

Change can mean freedom.

Change can mean choosing yourself.

Change can mean finally accepting that something was beautiful, meaningful, important—and still not meant to last forever.

You don't have to hate someone to let them go.

You don't have to erase the memories to move forward.

You don't have to regret the chapter just because you decided to close it.

And you don't have to keep rereading the same page hoping the ending will somehow change.

Sometimes you just have to trust yourself enough to turn it.

Because sometimes, change really is better.