I Choose You—Still, Always, Unconditionally

In many relationships, when one person wants out—or does something that feels unforgivable—the other is forced to follow. Suddenly, your reality shatters. You’re no longer living the life you thought you had.
You’re in the twilight zone.

Where does the love go?
Were things perfect? No.
Were you 100% happy? Of course not.
Were there days you wanted to give up? Absolutely.
But you stayed. You believed that love and marriage could overcome anything.

Not everyone has that kind of faith. Sometimes it’s their pain, their trauma, or their own self-loathing over what they did wrong that drives them away. And now their choice is forcing you to walk a path you never agreed to.

I found myself in that exact place.
The twilight zone.

And when I chose to walk that path with love, with kindness, and with a deep trust in my gut—that my person still loved me—I was tested. Over and over. Forced to show unconditional love in ways I never imagined.

Was I crazy? In denial? Why wouldn’t I just fight back like everyone said I should?

I’m not going to lie—I felt crazy. I confided in family and close friends about the behaviors, the shifting boundaries, and the new obligations that felt so unbalanced. Every single one of them told me to stand up for myself. And maybe, from the outside looking in, they were right. If it had been any other couple, I probably would’ve said the same thing.

But it wasn’t any other couple. It was us.

Even while I was being hurt by my person, I knew they were hurting too.

Hurt people hurt people.

I know them—really know them. Better than anyone, even their mother. And in my heart, even when their actions didn’t reflect it, I knew they loved me. Not just some polite, “I’ll always care about you” kind of love. No—this was different.

I could feel it in the way they breathed near me. The way they still reached for my hand while we moved our things out of the house we had sold, splitting our life into separate homes.

They were still in love with me.

I know how that sounds. I know people reading this might be thinking, “Girl, you need to wake up.”

But here’s what I mean by this kind of crazy:
My connection with my person is so strong—stronger than I ever realized until all of this. So strong that I can feel when their heart is at odds with itself, even when everyone around me sees something else. I know when they’re not being honest, when the walls go up, when fear takes over. And I know in my heart—it’s not because they’re “bad.” It’s because they’re trying to protect others by guarding their feelings. They’re trying to please everyone around them by pretending to be “okay.”

They truly believe their actions are better for everyone, not realizing that the lies and the weight they carry inside are more hurtful than they think. That internalizing it all doesn’t make it disappear—it creates more damage. Damage to themselves. And the pain of losing something so rare... a love like this.

There were so many moments when it felt like things were happening to me—like I was being forced to stop loving my person. I remember asking them one day, “Are you trying to make me unlove you?”

I choose to be present in my feelings for you. I didn’t choose this twilight—and to respond in any way that isn’t true to my heart would be dishonest to my journey. It is my choice to love you. I get to choose when I want to unlove you, if ever.

They were angry—at me, at themselves, at us—for letting things get this far. But more than anything now, they just seemed torn. Pulled between what they felt and what they thought they had to do... what they hoped might fix it.

I could see how heavy it all was—the sadness, the pressure, the fear.

What sometimes came across as cold or cruel was really just them, lost in the weight of their emotions. Confused.
Still holding love, but unsure how to trust it—how to move forward without breaking even more along the way.
What I saw wasn’t rage. It was someone trying to make sense of their own heart. Quiet. Hesitant. Hurting.

It felt like they were afraid the change they were seeing in me wouldn’t last, or that they couldn’t believe it was real. So they shut down. Pushed me away. Almost like they were trying to make me hate them—to give them an easier way out.

If I walked away first, they wouldn’t have to face the pain of knowing they hurt someone who still loved them. They could say, “See? I knew the other shoe would drop.”

They couldn’t believe my growth—my reflection, my willingness to own my part—it all felt too good to be true. It was as if they wanted me to be the one to completely cut the cord because somehow, that was easier to live with than staying and facing the guilt.

But what they didn’t realize was that I loved them enough to stay—through the sleepless nights, the lonely public outings where their absence screamed louder than words, and especially the emotional walls that would rise after those rare, beautiful moments of healing breakthroughs together.

From my perspective, every seemingly hurtful action, cold boundary, or transactional conversation felt like a test—an invitation to react. To lash out in the exact way I felt I was being baited to. And believe me, I had racing thoughts—about how it might feel good for a moment, how bitter it could make my heart, how it might affect our little one. But most of all, I thought about how it would hurt my person—and give them an easy out. An excuse to shift blame onto my reaction, a reason to let me go.

But I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.

Because I knew that, deep down, they expected everyone to eventually take what they needed and leave. It’s a pattern of pain I’ve seen in their life—a belief that people only stay when they’re being given something. That love is conditional. That loyalty has limits.

But I wanted to remind them: I chose them—not for what they had, but for who they were. I chose them long before they became who they are now. And no matter the hurt I’ve had to endure, I’ve held on to the truth that my love for them is not—and will never be—conditional.

Unconditional love is often talked about as something only a parent can give a child. And while that is a sacred kind of love, I believe you can also love your person that way. You can choose to love someone not just for their strengths, but for their flaws. You can love someone knowing there will be times you’ll have to carry more, hurt more, and wait longer—because you believe in their healing. Because you believe they’re worthy of forgiveness, even when they can’t see it themselves.

They are worthy of someone standing by them, no matter what.

Yes, all relationships need tending, including ours. But the love I have for my person is unconditional. And I’ll be here—waiting patiently (well, most of the time)—for us to heal and grow.

Because in my heart, and in my gut, I know I didn’t choose wrong.

So each day I wake up, no matter how far I’m pushed away or how my affection goes unreturned, I hold onto what I know deep down: they’re scared. Scared of love they don’t think they deserve.

I’m here to show them differently. I’m here—listening, loving, and willing to do what I should’ve done all along: stay present, stay soft, and work through the pain we’ve both brought into this relationship.

Every day, I choose to love them unconditionally—because they are, and always will be, my person.