Learning to Love you from Afar

You were my favorite notification......

Some connections don’t end with answers. They end with silence, reflection, and the quiet work of surrender.

This is one of those moments for me.

What we shared felt spiritual—not because it was flawless, but because it awakened something sacred inside of me. It touched my heart, my nervous system, my faith, and the parts of me that had been guarded for a long time. And I honor that fully.

I honor what we had. I believed in the energy between us. I believed in the stillness we shared, in the conversations, in the safety I felt, and in the vision of growth I carried in my heart; it was safe there. I believed because my heart was open—and that is not something I regret.

I have cried.

I have grieved.

I have sat in my tears long enough.

I have apologized—to God, to you, to myself, and in the quiet places where reflection lives. I’ve taken accountability for my reactions, my fears, and the moments when old trauma and abandonment wounds surfaced. I see clearly now where healing is still needed, where fear spoke louder than trust, and where my heart asked for reassurance, it didn’t know how to ask for gently. I am so used to the worst-case scenario being true with men that I was needing something to be wrong. I was trying to get ahead of the heartbreak. The trauma I hold from men runs deeper than I thought and it needs more healing.....

And now, I release the outcome.

There comes a moment when reflection must turn into acceptance. When longing must soften into self-respect. When love no longer needs to be proven through suffering. I don’t need to stay in the ache to honor what was real.

It was real because it changed me!

Tending My Inner Garden

This new season has been about mending my garden—my inner being, my heart, my soil. I’ve been clearing what no longer serves me: fear, control, anxiety, and the belief that love must be earned.

I’ve honored stillness—not as withdrawal, but as reverence. In stillness, I’ve heard God more clearly. I’ve listened to my body honestly. I’ve learned what kind of love brings peace.

What we walked through felt like a spiritual battle—not against each other, but within ourselves. We spoke openly about spiritual realms, about awareness, about depth, and I remember you saying you didn’t know many people who could meet you there the way I could. I believe that kind of awareness carries responsibility. Love at that level requires grounding, prayer, centering, and patience. It asks us to fight for love, not against fear. Entities can come in to confuse and control if we let them and are not vigilant and aware that this is a spiritual warfare from trauma....

Ephesians 6:12

*“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces."

There were many outside pressures—distractions, old wounds, pride, and anxiety—breathing louder than peace and grace at times. I can see now how easily fear can masquerade as protection, and how silence can replace connection when reassurance is needed most. Love, as I understand it, is patient and kind. I don’t believe in the narcissistic version of love that so often shows up in the world today. I believe in love that stays soft, honest, accountable, and rooted in grace.

I have never been afraid to be vulnerable or to reach out again, because I don’t measure my worth by how I appear for loving deeply. I stopped seeking external validation a long time ago. I have dignity, and I will always speak the truth with care. Loving openly has never diminished me—it has clarified me.

And I trust God enough to release control. I have faith that God will continue to work on us separately—healing what needs healing, strengthening what needs maturity, and bringing clarity where confusion once lived. I trust the outcome, not because I know what it will be, but because I trust God in this.

I am living my life fully again rooted, awake, and present. I am choosing growth over fixation. Wholeness over waiting. Faith over force.

What I Carry Forward

I will always honor what we shared—not with attachment, but with gratitude.

I don’t need to rewrite the story as broken or dark. It was a chapter that revealed truth—about love, about healing, and about what my heart is capable of when it feels safe.

And now, I place this into God’s hands.

I release control. I release timelines. I release the need to understand every part of it.

I trust the universe to do what it needs to do.

I only ever wanted to give you peace. I wanted to be your safe place—the place where you could exhale and rest. I wanted to kiss your wounds, not because they defined you, but because I saw past them.

I miss you and what we had. Sometimes the memory of your arms hits me unexpectedly. Your scent comes and goes. When I close my eyes, I still see you, and I can still feel that kiss—the one that lives in my memory....

The flashbacks are real, and I honor them. They don’t mean I am stuck; they mean I loved deeply.

Thank you for awakening a part of me I never knew existed. I will always love you for that. I carry that awakening forward now—with love, with grace, and with my heart still open.

My love letters were from my heart, my meals were made with love, my gifts were given in honor, and my touch was from the soul. I will never stop praying for you and your children. You hold a really special place in my heart. I want to apologize to you for every woman who has hurt you and made you feel unseen. You hold so much value to me.

Release

I release this into God’s hands, trusting the work I cannot see and the answers I may never fully understand.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.” — Proverbs 3:5–6

I trust God with this. I trust the timing, the healing, the distance, and whatever is meant to unfold next. What was real has already done its work. What remains is peace.

Closing Prayer

God, I place this love, this grief, and this season in Your hands. Thank You for what was revealed, for what was healed, and for what is still unfolding. Cleanse our hearts of fear and replace it with peace. Where there is longing, bring rest. Where there is uncertainty, bring trust. Continue to tend our hearts as we tend our gardens and guide our steps forward with clarity and grace. I release what I cannot carry, and I trust You with the outcome. Amen.

Love and Grace,

Soldier Mom