“Hi!! My name is Emma and I was in a relationship with someone my senior year of high school and we did not date but we were exclusive to each other and we knew we were never gonna be together after prom because he was going to the army and I was moving to Florida for college, the way he ended things was very bad. He texted me how it’s going to hurt him more if we keep talking the way we do and I always had resentment for him after that. it’s been seven months since we spoken and I’m done with college for my first year and he is back home for break until he goes to Alaska and we are from New York. he texted me to hang out before he left and we hung out and it was good, but I just felt like I still have feelings, but I always buried them inside and I feel like he does not feel the same way. i’m confused on why he wanted to hang out all we did was talk and watch a movie and kiss no sex. when we say goodbye to each other, he said I hope we see each other in the future and I don’t know how to feel about that and I was very sad and I’m also very confused because we were never sexually intimate while we were together in high school and he said it’s because he knew he was gonna get attached but I feel like it’s a lie as well. I’m just mixed with a lot of emotions right now. I don’t know how to feel. after we hung out, we haven’t spoken since.”

Hi Emma! You were in a relationship-that-wasn’t-a-relationship-but-totally-was. Exclusive, emotionally deep, and headed for an expiration date you both saw coming, but unfortunately didn’t make the fall any softer. The problem with “we both knew it was ending” is that knowing something doesn’t mean your heart was prepared for it.

Then he ended things with a classic “this hurts me more than it hurts you” breakup text. Translation? “I’m overwhelmed and don’t want to deal with this, so I’m making myself the victim so you don’t question it.” You had every right to hold resentment. He didn’t give you closure, he gave you a riddle.

Fast forward seven months. You just finished your first year of college (congrats by the way!), you’re back home, and he pops up again. You hang out, and suddenly all those buried feelings come crawling back out of their emotional grave. That’s normal. When something ends in a haze of almosts, your heart holds onto the “what if.” Then he kisses you, tosses out a vague “hope we see each other again,” and fades back into the distance.

You asked why you still care. I’ll tell you why. You didn’t just like him, you saw the potential of what could’ve been. The version of him that cared, the one who said he’d get attached if you slept together. And maybe that was true. Maybe he was scared. Maybe he would get super attached. But scared people don’t get to keep you half-loved while they figure it out.

He reopened the wound, poked around, and left again. And now you’re left wondering what it meant and why it still hurts. But this isn’t just about him. This is about you. About the version of you who cared for him. Who hoped it would be different. Who still remembers how close it almost came to being something more. You’re not confused, you’re grieving, and you’re grieving the potential of what could’ve been, alongside the version of you that wanted more. And here’s where you are in that process: you’ve passed denial because you know he’s not coming back in any real way. You’re between sadness and acceptance, with a little bargaining mixed in. That little voice that says “maybe if he reached out again, it would feel different this time.” That’s not love. That’s grief trying to rewrite the ending.

So here’s an action plan for you. Feel free to take and leave what feels best, because there will be someone who doesn’t need to pull and push at your feelings to make you feel something.

First, identify what you hoped for. Not just from him, but from that whole chapter. What did you want to feel? Safe? Chosen? Desired? All of the above? Write it down. That’s your real desire hiding underneath your feelings, not him. Second, replace him. Every time he crosses your mind, do one thing, however small, that brings you back to you. Text a friend. Get fresh air. Add a song to your playlist. Work on your Pinterest board. Show your nervous system something new is coming.

Third, build closure through behavior. Unfollow if it helps. And don’t give meaning to crumbs. As a born over-thinker, I understand giving every word, text, and picture meaning. But we have to come back to this: if he wanted to be in your life, he’d be here. Let that be enough. And finally, declare the lesson. Not “he was a mistake,” but “this showed me what I need in love moving forward.” Because it did.

Love, Bella

P.S. You weren’t too much. He was too unequipped. There’s a difference, and it matters.

Stalked the ex’s new girlfriend. Enviously clicked through that LinkedIn post from the student who got the internship you just got rejected for. Blasted an angry song pretending it’s not about the person from your hometown who somehow still gets under your skin. Warranted or not, these “evil” feelings we swear we’ve evolved past, from jealousy to anger, envy, and ego, are lurking.

You’ll meditate, manifest, journal your “five things I’m grateful for,” and still spiral when someone else posts their “big news.” You’ll tell yourself you’re above comparison while simultaneously zooming in on her hair, her ring, her highlight reel. And the worst part? You’ll feel guilty for feeling it.

But maybe those “bad” feelings aren’t bad at all.

Maybe they’re just trying to talk to you.

Jealousy isn’t evil: it’s intel.

We’ve been taught that jealousy makes us small. That it’s immature, unhealed, and embarrassing. But when you strip away the shame, jealousy is simply an indicator of your desire.

The secret?: You don’t get jealous of things that aren’t connected to you. I’d never be jealous of Olympic swimmers or brain surgeons or people who enjoy camping. Those things just don’t cater to me.

But it does flare up when something hits a littleeee too close to home. Because often it’s potential dressed up in irritation.

That girl’s success story didn’t ruin your mood. It reminded you of your standard. Your passion. Your remembrance of what ease felt like. What it feels like to receive things, good things, just because. What it feels like to dream without doubt. You’re not mad that she has it. You’re mad that you convinced yourself you couldn’t, or even worse, shouldn’t.

How TF do I fix this?

Trace it. Follow jealousy like a clue. What does their win make you feel is missing? Why don’t you believe you deserve it? What, along the way, stopped you from thinking you could do it or have it too?

Rage isn’t chaos: it’s boundary.

Then there’s rage. The emotion that makes you want to throw your phone, your relationship, your entire life into the ocean. But underneath all of that, it makes you feel like a villain with a tumultuous backstory.

But rage is also your body’s secret way of delivering the message: “I’ve been quiet for far too long.”

What happens when you ignore your anger? You smile through disrespect. You spiritualize abuse. You mistake people-pleasing for peace.

When you truly feel your rage, and I mean feel it, your range for comfortability goes out the window. Not only are you letting yourself be upset, but you’re showing the wall you hit, the pillow you threw, and most importantly yourself, what is truly bothering you. And underneath that wound where it bothers you, you find where your boundaries lie.

Your flaws are your flavor.

We spend so much time trying to be the “good” girls who are balanced, quiet, likable, detached, unbothered. But who cares? Girls that make change aren’t neutral, they live on full volume.

Your quirks, contradictions, 0-to-100 personality, intensity, dramatics, weird obsessions, and crazy opinions all encompass you and your authenticity.

The myth that healing means becoming gentle, saintlike, and void of any sharp edge is a lie. Sometimes healing means letting yourself be loud again. To talk with your hands. To roll your eyes. To be petty in your notes app for a minute before returning to grace. Being a good person doesn’t mean being a quiet one.

The Hidden Messages:

Jealousy → Desire

Rage → Boundaries

Ego → Vision

Pettiness → Precision

Control → Care

Jealousy teaches discernment. Rage teaches self-respect. Even your pride taught you to stop begging for the basics. The problem isn’t the feeling, it’s the shame we attach to having it.

Embracing your bad qualities means finally seeing them as part of your design, sometimes looking like crying, scrolling, and cussing. Because that makes us whole.

No, you wanted me to say that my skin started glowing, my confidence skyrocketed, and I had the oh-so-common epiphany that social media was ruining my life. False. What I actually gained was clarity on my body, my needs, and the frightening truth that I genuinely don’t care what I look like anymore.

I love makeup. I love dyeing my curls honey blonde every two months. But trends kept whispering: “Sculpt your nose. Lift your eyes. Wear this.” I chased features I didn’t have. And while my self-esteem stayed intact, my blush placement absolutely did not (newsflash: clowncore is not for everyone).

For the past two years, I’ve been in and out of hospitals. By the end of sophomore year, I landed in the ER. I stopped caring if my lipliner was blended or if my beat-up boots matched the hoodie I wore like armor to class. My body was breaking down, and so was the façade. Bye-bye haircare. Bye-bye Urban Decay.

Usually, summer is when I thrive: glowy skin, small waist, birthday season energy. But this time, after a trip across the country with my boyfriend, I looked, and felt, the worst I ever had. Another ER visit. No glow in sight.

So I cut the noise. No more social media trends. No more “sponsored” anything. Instead, I took myself to the flea market and bought clothes I would’ve loved at age five. I stared at my face for way too long in the mirror, shaping my makeup to where the shadows hit my face, not where someone with a slim face and oval face told me to contour. I wore blush as eyeshadow. Purple lipstick for no reason. Stopped dyeing my hair (even though I might go back, don’t fight me). I started getting plain nails again. Ugly jewelry that makes no sense. Earrings shaped like bugs. Random Y2K pieces I’d never wear at my college.

And while I stopped watching social media, I started watching my body. It bloats when I scroll for too long. It hurts when I eat protein. It’s breaking out enough to host a Tic-Tac-Toe tournament. But instead of hiding, I started listening. I bought skincare for my skin. I ditched lash extensions that leave bald spots and opted for cheap strip lashes. I stopped working out for a big butt. I like cardio. I like having a small bum.

Trends can be fun. They teach you, they inspire you. But stepping away teaches you what you like before algorithms get a say. And everything you think you need to change about yourself? It’s probably just your uniqueness being gaslit by the For You page.

I gained some weight and my skin’s still healing. But I’m finally seeing just my features, and I’ve never cared less about how I look because I’ve never known myself more.

–Kate

Hi Kate,

I’ll tell you why you’re attached. But first, I’ll tell you a story.

Freshman year, I met a guy who told me, more than once, that he couldn’t be the man I needed and wasn’t ready for a relationship. Doe-eyed and craving affection, I stayed. And I’ll be honest, I knew I was out of his league. I figured he’d grow. I figured he’d realize I was good for him. I treated him well, showed up for him, even helped him emotionally. What I didn’t realize was that underneath all of that, I was clinging to the feeling. I needed his attention, his affection, the comfort. And the worst part? He told me exactly how it would end. And he was right.

I’m telling you this because you’re not alone. You’re not foolish. You just had hope. And when the connection feels strong but the relationship never forms, it creates this confusing limbo that’s hard to step out of. I’ve been there. So many of us have. And me and you both know you deserve better. So let’s talk about why this still hurts.

You said the key words: He’s an avoidant. Which tells me you’re aware he’s not communicating his feelings, nor delivering the needs of yours. You’ve also been telling him to change, which tells me the dynamic consists of you voicing your needs, him not meeting them, and you trying to “fix” the situation or him. But that isn’t love. It’s labor. And love isn’t supposed to exhaust you.

You also know he isn’t the man for you. Not just because he said it, but because of how he shows up. The moments where he goes silent, when your needs get pushed aside, when he disappears just long enough for you to question everything. And then, right as you start to find your footing, he pops back in. That’s not clarity. That’s confusion disguised as comfort.

And I’m not going to tell you to block him. That’s not always the solution. You don’t need to cut him off. You just need to come back to you. You don’t need to make a dramatic exit to reclaim your peace. You just need to start choosing yourself more often. Your energy, your affection, and your presence are gifts. Reread that. And they don’t belong in hands that don’t know how to hold them, no matter the reason why.

Here’s what tends to happen if you stay in the loop. You’ll keep talking. You’ll keep hoping. He’ll say the right things. Maybe even treat you like a girlfriend without calling you one. And yes, it’ll feel good… until it doesn’t. Until you remember you still don’t have a title. Still don’t have security. Still don’t feel chosen. Still in a relationship for years and he isn’t serving up to your needs without a fight or confrontation. And you’ll wonder if you’re asking for too much when really, you’re asking for the bare minimum.

And none of this makes you unworthy. It makes you human. You’re not “too much” or “not enough.” You’re just someone who’s been giving more than they’ve been getting. And if that dynamic hasn’t changed yet, it won’t.

So is he manipulating you or does he like you? Both. He probably likes you. Likes your heart, spending time with you, the affection you give him. And he may be unintentionally pulling you along. But if he hasn’t done the work to show up in love, he’s not going to magically wake up ready. Even if he’s kind. Even if he says he cares. Saying “you deserve better” isn’t the same as being better. Sometimes people give you just enough to keep you close, but never enough to make you feel secure. And that’s not love. That’s games. And intentional or not, it’s manipulation.

I know it’s tempting to wonder what’s stopping him. I know you’ve thought of it all: Maybe he’s scared. Maybe he’s been hurt. Maybe it’s something deep he hasn’t healed yet. And maybe it is. But unless heis the one asking those questions, it’s not your job to answer them for him. And you should be in a relationship with someone who does answer those questions, without you having to even ask. And holding out hope for a relationship that won’t be ready when you get in it, because he won’t do the work now, is only time spent losing yourself in the process.

So why are you attached to someone you never dated?

Because you cared. Because you felt something real. You built a story around the version of him that showed up when things felt good. You saw potential. You hoped for more. And when you care deeply, even an almost can leave a real mark.

But now, it’s time to return to you. Because quite honestly, no amount of love or likeness is enough to make someone treat you differently.

And if you’re wondering how to actually close the door, start small. Archive the messages so you’re not tempted to reread them. Mute him if you don’t want to block him. When the thoughts come up, remind yourself: if he wanted to be here, he would be. It doesn’t have to be cold or sudden. It just has to be consistent.

You can miss him and still move forward. You can care about him and still close the door. You can maintain boundaries and not put his desires before yours. You don’t need his permission to let go.

And if he reaches out again? You don’t have to react. You’ll already know he’s not trying to build something new. He’s just making sure the door is still open. And you are learning how to lock the door without hating what’s behind it.

With much love,

Bella

–Ashley

Hi Ashley! 

Back to the exes. A page that has been re-written in my book plenty of times. I’ve definitely caught a case of the BHBs (Back Home Blues), so you’re not alone. That hometown energy has a way of pulling ghosts out of the closet and making you question if they ever really left in the first place. 

Here’s what stands out: two years. Too recent to start over, and too long to be stuck on the small details of the breakup. It’s huge that you felt like you moved on, especially if the breakup wasn’t easy. But I gotta ask: who reached out first?

Because when exes come sniffing around after you’ve healed, it’s rarely out of love. The healing process for many guys includes fun first, healing second, and it tends to be the opposite for us girls. I mention this because if he reached out first, it was likely based on ego (using the 2 years for reference). This comes into play when they want to see if they still have access to you, or if you’re willing to go as far as trying again. If you reached out first, (and I love you so don’t hate me), it’s possible you weren’t as over him as you thought. That’s more than okay. But let’s be honest with ourselves about what this really is, because honesty will take us into what I’m about to say next: Him just seeing you as a friend.

It’s completely valid to feel a little upset that he’s only seeing you as a friend. You were an important part of his life, and him sliding back in can stir up a lot: old feelings, questions, even hope. But now is the time to ask yourself what you actually want.

Do you want, truly, to be more than friends with him, or is this a sting from the Back-Home-Blues? Would it vanish if you met someone new who had everything he had and more? Then this might be a case of the BHBs and temporary nostalgia. Or, would it go away if he wasn’t talking to other girls? Then maybe it’s not about him… it’s about the feeling of being replaced. But if none of that would change how you feel, even if circumstances were different, or you even reached out first… then maybe you still have real feelings for him.

Again, I ask these questions to address the core issue. You are beautiful, obviously smart, and more than emotionally capable enough to get over him comfortably if you fall out (because you already did). Getting clear on what you want also helps understand why you’re truly upset he’s talking to other girls, especially if exclusivity wasn’t promised. You deserve someone who doesn’t make you feel like you’re in a relay race giving the baton to the next girl and *hoping* she runs back to you. If you truly want something with your ex, this race shouldn’t exist at all.

And lastly, the final words: “I’m letting him ruin my peace.” You know it, I know it. You moved on from him, and you’re now in the weird 2-year-zone post breakup. If during the snapping stage you feel that your peace, the peace you worked for and fought for no matter how much you missed him, is now being affected, then hear this: no person or circumstance should cost your peace. If snapping with someone you once cared for has you questioning your worth, he’s not offering friendship, he’s offering confusion. Especially an ex. Especially someone you already got over. Especially someone you’re feeling for only because of Back Home Blues. Especially just to feel chosen.

So no Ashley, you don’t have to ghost him or make it dramatic. You just need to choose you again. You can be kind, cordial, even chill, but detached. Because you’re not just anyone. You’re not a maybe. You’re not a relay race runner standing in the cold while he’s swinging his baton between you and other girls. You can remind yourself that your feelings got involved in something that was never meant to be this serious again. And it’s okay, it happens. But now it’s time to protect the peace you earned. That post-breakup peace is sacred. Don’t gamble it for comfort or curiosity. Exes alwayssss want to “remain friends” or “remain in contact.” But if he wasn’t married to you or you don’t have kids by him, then all those words simply mean is “remain in access.” And Ashley, you deserve way better. And way hotter. So feel free to cut him off, because it’s clear you’re not looking for a friendship. You’re looking for peace.

Love, 

Bella

There was pain, yes, but there was also a finality: a quiet goodbye that allowed me to grieve, to make peace with her absence. It felt like a new way of having her in my life: a softer, more distant version of her presence. As hard as it was, I knew that grief would come in cycles: when I see her favorite coffee shop, when I want someone to do my nails with, and of course, every holiday and accomplishment.

But with my dad, it’s been different. As my only parent left, it was almost forceful to become best friends. He was the one I could talk to about anything, the one I turned to when I needed advice or just someone who understood me. But what I failed to address were the years of absence, arguments, and resentment. Before I knew it, his priorities shifted, though I didn’t want to see it at first. Unfortunately, these changes began loooong before I could fully accept them.

Looking back, I realize how much I tried to ignore the truth. I forgave him over and over again for being absent in ways that mattered most, for neglecting our bond when it wasn’t convenient for him. I pushed it all down until I couldn’t anymore. Now, it feels like I’ve lost him. I no longer feel like his daughter, and that sense of belonging, of being his little girl, is gone.

A few days ago, I woke up with one of his old songs stuck in my head. It’s funny how memories have a way of resurfacing when you least expect it. The same two lines played on repeat, as if they were trying to tell me something:

“Live life and don’t be scared, just beware,
‘Cause it’s a jungle out there.”

I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it was a sign, I thought, a way of reconnecting. Or maybe it was just a reminder to keep going, even in the silence between us. But the urge to call him didn’t come without hesitation. Deep down, I knew something wasn’t right. It’s not that a phone call would solve everything.

*Since writing this, I have reconnected with my Dad. Our reconnection is continued below.

Still, I decided to try. For months, I had avoided it, telling myself it was useless, that the father I remembered was gone. But something urged me to call, and intuitively, I did.

The call was hard. At first, it felt like talking to a stranger, with polite pauses and shallow conversation. But slowly, cracks appeared in the distance. It wasn’t the deep, effortless connection we once had, but it was a start.

After exchanging ‘I missed you’s’ and hearing his apologies, I realized he may have been different, but he was still here. And for the first time in months, I felt like maybe I could rebuild, even if it wouldn’t look like it used to.

The phone call quickly revealed the effects of absence. He didn’t know about my work life, my current relationships, and I barely knew of his. It felt like talking to a stranger who read a book on your life.

A few days later, I decided to call again. At the core of our closeness were updates: updates on what I did today, how my grades have been, what the latest gossip was. But the next conversation strayed much further from simple updates, it was instead a scene of retrospection. He addressed the lingering fact that we had to discuss the past. He believed it was necessary to move on. And as I agreed to a certain extent, part of me just wanted my Dad back.

I didn’t want to recollect the past several years. That can be done at anytime; it will be done at sometime. But while I had him, I wanted the simplicity of calling my Dad when I got a new job offer, when I needed his advice, when I read a new article and wanted his take on it. But it was obvious he wanted to tear down the wall before moving forward, and I just wanted to climb over it.

So we addressed some issues. And within there was the brutal honesty of telling him how I had felt — about the absence, the hurt, the grief of losing him while he was still alive.: not only within the months of not speaking, but sprinkled within the years after Mom died.

It wasn’t a magic fix. One conversation couldn’t erase years of distance. But it was the beginning of something new. I realized that while I was grieving the father he used to be, I also needed to make space for the man he had become.

Sometimes we grieve not for a person’s death, but for their disappearance from our lives while they’re still alive. I still believe that. But now, I also know that grief can evolve into something else. It can soften, change shape, and make room for new beginnings.

The father who used to write songs for his children, who was my confidant and my best friend; that man is still gone in some ways. But the man who heard me that day, who picked up the phone, is someone I’m learning to love in a different way. It’s not the relationship we once had, but it’s something. And I’ve realized that something is enough.

Writing this is difficult. I’ve hesitated to share this part of my life because airing family matters is uncomfortable. There’s always a fear of judgment, or of feeling like I’m betraying someone by speaking out. But this is my story, and as uncomfortable as it may be, I know that stories only truly affect those who see their own reflection in them. Some will relate to this and feel understood; others may not. But for me, writing this is a way of finding my own healing.

Grieving someone still alive is a unique and complicated sorrow. It’s not like grieving death, where there’s an endpoint, a place to find closure. It’s about living with a constant ache, accepting that the person you loved has changed in ways you can’t undo. But it’s also about realizing that loss doesn’t have to be the end. Sometimes, it can be a new beginning.

Take Time

Amidst the flurry of events and gatherings, don’t forget to prioritize yourself. Take time for yourself, whether it’s indulging in your favorite book, going for a walk, or practicing meditation. Recognize that it’s okay to take a step back and recharge when needed.

Set Realistic Expectations

The holidays often come with high expectations, but it’s essential to set realistic ones. Understand that you can’t be in multiple places at once or meet everyone’s expectations. Prioritize events and commitments based on what aligns best with your well-being.

Say No

It’s okay to decline invitations or requests politely. You don’t have to overextend yourself to please others. Saying no doesn’t mean you don’t care; it means you’re valuing your mental and emotional health.

Say No… to Your Phone

With technology at our fingertips, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by constant communication. Set boundaries on when and how you engage with technology, including choosing who you allow to blow up your phone and knowing when it’s time to stop comparing your holidays to everyone else’s. Allowing yourself uninterrupted moments can help you relax and engage with those physically present.

Seek Support

If you find it challenging to maintain boundaries or feel overwhelmed, seek support. Reach out to friends, family, or a therapist who can offer guidance and understanding. Having someone to talk to can make a significant difference.

Reflect

After the holidays, take time to reflect on what worked and what didn’t regarding your boundaries. Use this reflection to adjust and improve strategies for future celebrations.

Remember, setting boundaries isn’t selfish; it’s an act of self-care and self-respect. By maintaining healthy boundaries, you’re nurturing your well-being and fostering stronger, more authentic relationships. This holiday season, prioritize yourself, communicate openly, and cherish the joyous moments while safeguarding your emotional space.

Recently, I confronted a challenge I hadn’t fully recognized before – the issue of vulnerability. A close friend shared with me his recent experiences in the realm of love, when he disclosed personal details to his new date. I cautioned him that his openness, honesty, and love might be misconstrued as a weakness, leaving his vulnerability to possibly be taken advantage of. To my surprise, he responded, “My vulnerability is my power. No one can take that from me, especially when it’s one of the greatest things I control.” His response took me aback and had me pondering; I had never considered vulnerability, even the act of oversharing both the positive and negative aspects of life, as a source of power.

I used to be exceptionally vulnerable, sharing openly to compensate for my fear of inadequacy: believing that people could only connect with me if they knew every detail about my life. However, I’ve recently become overly private, unintentionally cutting off communication and leaving friends and family unaware of my whereabouts. Reflecting on my friend’s dating experience, I recognized that vulnerability had previously granted me numerous friendships, connections, and empathy, both with familiar faces and strangers alike.

This letter serves as a reminder to be truthful with oneself and embrace vulnerability. Not driven by fear or scarcity, but by strength and love. You don’t have to disclose every detail of your life to be vulnerable; instead, express your genuine emotions to foster connections you might not have otherwise experienced. Let vulnerability be a source of strength and a catalyst for authentic connections.

Wishing you all courage and authenticity on your journey.

With love,

Bella