Love Letter to the Other

So far on this journey, I’ve learned how to cope with pain and anger, how to control my emotions, lead with faith, show love to those who feel lost, and be an example of what it looks like to do the right thing—even when it’s hard. I wrote this piece in the earliest weeks of starting my blog, and while I’m proud of every blog, this letter has been the most therapeutic thing I’ve ever written.

I didn’t write it to shame anyone or make anyone feel small. This isn’t an attack—it’s an offering.

Dear Other,

You don’t know me, but I already know we have something in common: You see in them what I once did when I fell in love.

And I want you to know— I don’t blame you.

I know you haven’t spent years sacrificing your career to hold everything together while they pursued theirs. I know you haven’t put your own needs on the back burner to raise children, sometimes alone.

You haven’t fought and forgiven, over and over again, just to hold on to something that matters.

Because if you had—if you’d lived in that kind of love and that kind of commitment—I believe you wouldn’t have crossed this line.

You wouldn’t have stepped into a relationship you knew was still sacred, even if struggling. You wouldn’t have filled spaces that still belong to me. Because deep down, you know… I’m not really gone.

You know they still love me. You feel it. And yet—you’re still there.

I’m not here to vilify you. I believe the qualities you’re drawn to in them could’ve been found in someone who wasn’t married, who wasn’t in the middle of working through heartbreak.

I believe you deserve a love story of your own—one built on honesty and trust, not betrayal and confusion.

So I pray for you.

I pray you find that person—your person.

I pray it’s someone who makes you feel so seen and cherished that you’d never want it to begin in secret or shame.

I pray that no one ever makes you question your worth by choosing you in the shadows.

And if you do find that love, I hope no one ever threatens it, interferes in it, or casually risks the safety of your future.

I hope no one ever takes away your confidence—physically, mentally, emotionally.

I hope no one makes you feel like you have to hide or explain yourself to your children, or protect them from the truth of how your family was broken.

I hope no one ever causes you to doubt your role in your own story. Or worse, makes you feel like a side piece in theirs.

I don’t blame you for being curious. I don’t blame you for wondering if we’ll make it. But even if a piece of paper says otherwise, you won’t be the love of their life.

Because I know what we built. And I know what’s still there.

Even now, after everything, I still choose them. Not because I’m weak or unaware—but because love, real love, isn’t disposable. And what we’ve been through has only shown me how deep and resilient that love is.

You may think you’re waiting for something to be over. But I’m waiting too. Not for a person—but for healing. For restoration. For growth.

I pray that one day you’ll have the strength to choose a story that starts in the light. One where no one has to be hurt for you to feel loved.

You haven’t given up pieces of yourself for them—like I have. And I hope you never have to.

I know what it feels like to crave attention when your self-esteem is low. I’ve been there too.

But that attention, when it comes at someone else’s cost, always carries a weight.

So if no one’s told you this yet—I will:

You are worthy of a love that is fully yours.

Not borrowed.

Not hidden.

Not “if things fall apart.”

Yours.

And I hope you find it.

I don’t know your story, and I can’t pretend to understand your intentions. But I do believe that deep down, we all want the same thing: To be seen. To be chosen. To be loved fully and without shame.

So if you take nothing else from this letter, take this:

There’s a better way to love and be loved. One that doesn’t come at the cost of someone else’s heartbreak.

One that begins in truth, grows in safety, and leads to peace.

I’m still healing.

I’m still choosing to believe that love can survive what tries to break it.

And I’m choosing to believe the same for you.

I hope you find that kind of love.

I hope you become the kind of person who protects it.

With compassion,

Someone who loved them first.