Sis, It’s Time to Let Go: Finding Peace After Heartbreak

 I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, y’all! And let me tell you—Chileeeee! I was out here functioning in pure survival mode. Like, seriously, when I look back at pictures and think about the things I was dealing with, I don’t even recognize that girl. Who was she? I don’t know her! Sure it wasn't that bad, but who wants to say that about someone they love. 

Now, I’m a firm believer in feeling your feelings—scream, cry, whatever you need—but HOW you react? That’s the part that matters. The Bible even talks about this. It says:

“Go ahead and be angry. You do well to be angry—but don’t use your anger as fuel for revenge. And don’t stay angry. Don’t go to bed angry. Don’t give the Devil that kind of foothold in your life.”
Ephesians 4:26 MSG

That verse is the only way I can even begin to explain the season I’ve been in. Postpartum depression, anxiety, going through a breakup, working a 9-to-5, and let’s not forget the hardest job of all—raising two beautiful daughters. If that doesn’t sound like a recipe for chaos, I don’t know what does! And with all that, the anxiety over my future was real. As humans, we only have access to the past and the present, and let’s be honest, sometimes that can make the future feel so…uncertain. I was stuck, y’all.

In my relationship, I was hopeless. The past was a mess, the present wasn’t giving what it was supposed to give, and the future? I still question. I couldn’t see a way forward. I wanted “forever” with him—raising our girls in a loving two-parent home, living out the dream I had envisioned for so long. But with every step forward, the vision got blurrier. I lost sight of the future I wanted because I was too focused on the wreckage of the past and present.

It was like I was standing in front of two doors. One was closed, and the other was cracked open, just enough to peek through. And what did I see? The same struggles, the same past, the same mess. That’s when I knew—Sis, it’s time to let go.

Here’s the thing people don’t always get: When someone keeps bringing up “old stuff,” it’s not because they’re stuck in the past. It’s because the present is still triggering those old wounds. I had to deal with that. I found myself suppressing my feelings because expressing them would hurt his ego and pride—both of which, I learned, he valued more than he could ever value me. I was out here making excuses, not telling the full truth because—brace yourself—even though I knew he was as wrong as two left shoes, I still wanted to stay. Girl, what?!

It all came crashing down one day when I was talking to God in the shower. I mean, full breakdown mode. I was crying, telling God I hated my life, hated motherhood. I told Him I wasn’t cut out for all this pressure. I was drained—trying therapy, using AI for advice, sharing my feelings, not sharing them. I was at my wit’s end. But then I thought about my daughters. My babies. They were watching me, learning from me, and I had a responsibility to show them what it looks like to love yourself and demand better. That was my wake-up call.

Before I left, I tried everything—communication, therapy, church, prayer. I even suggested talking to a married couple, because if marriage was the goal, why not get some insight? Insert awkward laugh here. Therapy was suggested in 2021, and guess when we actually tried it? 2024. Three years later. That should’ve been my clue. It was like I was constantly pulling teeth, begging for something that should’ve been freely given. Every day felt like a test to win his approval, and I was failing miserably. He was dedicated to misunderstanding me.

I’m sharing all this because I know there are women—and men—out there going through situations that’ll make your head spin. It’ll have you googling terms like narcissism, self-worth, setting boundaries, and “Can you survive on the moon?” (Because, let’s be honest, some days Mars looks like a vibe!)

The worst part? I didn’t recognize myself anymore. I was angry, cursing, lashing out. I had become him, and that scared me. I didn’t like who I had to become to survive in that relationship. I was doing it all—paying all the bills (yes, all), splitting dates, planning dates, cleaning the house, picking up and dropping off the kids. Miserable doesn’t even begin to cover it. And whenever I spoke up about needing help or balance, I was met with attitude and told I was ungrateful.

But here’s where I’ll leave you: I believe everything happens for a reason. I believe people can change, and God’s grace and mercy isn’t just for me—it’s for everyone. Sometimes, you’ve got to lose to win again (shoutout to Evangelist Fantasia!). And I’m not perfect—I didn’t always show up as my best self in that relationship, and I own that. But here’s my saving grace: I have two beautiful daughters who came from the love that once existed. Every time I remember something bad from that season, I’m choosing to forgive and extend grace. But let’s be clear—grace and forgiveness don’t always mean reconnection. It means handing the hurt to God because it’s too heavy for me to carry.

So remember, everything that’s "good" ain’t always from God. Rejection is often protection. And delayed doesn’t mean denied.

Much love,

Xavia the Know-It-All (who knows nothing at all)