03/01/2026
Copied and Shared.. The Self.
I see this many times in clients..
The constant struggle to let go of what will never be.. The guilt The Shame they feel for being different.
This is for them and anyone who it resonates with.. 💖💖💖
Cutting off family who never acted like family
doesn’t feel like relief at first.
It feels like grief.
Not because you lost something good —
but because you finally stopped waiting
for something that was never coming.
You’re not mourning the relationship as it was.
You’re mourning the one you kept hoping it could be.
The conversations that never happened.
The accountability that never came.
The care that was promised but never delivered.
You stayed longer than you should have
because part of you believed:
If I explain it better… if I’m calmer… if I give them more time…
That hope is powerful.
And letting it die hurts.
This is the grief no one prepares you for —
the grief of accepting that blood did not equal safety,
that proximity did not equal love,
that loyalty was demanded but never returned.
You didn’t walk away impulsively.
You didn’t give up easily.
You didn’t “choose yourself” overnight.
You left after years of trying to be understood.
After shrinking, adapting, forgiving,
and questioning yourself into exhaustion.
Distance wasn’t the first option.
It was the last boundary left.
And that’s why the grief feels so heavy.
Because even when the relationship was harmful,
it was still your family.
It still held memories.
It still held identity.
It still held the version of you
that kept hoping this time would be different.
What you’re grieving isn’t family.
It’s fantasy.
The fantasy that one day they’d see you.
One day they’d protect you.
One day they’d love you without conditions.
Letting go of that fantasy
is one of the most painful acts of maturity there is.
And here’s the part you need to hear clearly:
Grief doesn’t mean you made the wrong choice.
Grief means you finally told yourself the truth.
You can miss what never truly existed
and still know that staying would have destroyed you.
You can ache for what should have been
without going back to what was.
You didn’t abandon your family.
You stopped abandoning yourself.
And the sadness that comes after?
That’s not weakness.
That’s the cost of choosing reality
over a hope that was slowly breaking you.
