To Let Go or Not To Let Go

Friends…I have something I don’t want to talk about but if I don’t I will melt into a puddle on the floor and be liquified forever.

As you know, I try to practice what I preach. I try to lead a very self-aware, do-what-I-know-should-be-done life. I try to be kind to myself. Introspective. But I’m human…sue me! I eff up! I turn that little consciousness off and do what makes me happy in the moment, ignoring anything besides the happiness I am feeling in the now. 

But sometimes it catches up to me. 

For the last month I’ve been in one of those times where it’s confronting me and I’m swatting it away like a mosquito— despite being in mosquito town on mosquito planet in mosquito galaxy. 

But recently I've been letting it land on me, risking the malaria, risking the dengue, the zika, west nile, and yellow fever. Risking it all because it's festering inside me like curdled milk.

I have loved someone for three years. Spoiler alert! Same person from before! Uh oh! 

And as time has gone by I’ve blamed myself less and less (as I realized I do this thing in my head where I take responsibility for 100% of a mess). Now, don’t get it twisted— I was at fault for my behavior. I did get distant when I was given direct, “unearned” love, and clung on for dear life when I felt that same distance given to me. I sucked at communicating. I said things without thinking. What can I say?…It’s what I did best (not okay). 

But having been just about two years since my breakup, I’m able to take a step back and identify patterns I hadn’t paid much attention to before. Or maybe not that I didn’t pay attention to them, but ones in which I glazed over and just accepted without looking at them. Excusing them as part of who that person was/is, rough times, etc. 

Which, in some ways, is a good thing! I have empathy! That thing that conservatives are scared of! Boo! So scary!

But in other ways…it’s not the best thing for myself I suppose.

Instead of identifying and accepting that this is a pattern and I am hurting from it and it’s not okay…I come up with excuses for people. But facing even the potential of that behavior— despite knowing in my heart that it isn’t intentional— feels like being told Santa isn’t real.

Here's my predicament:

Loving someone so deeply with every ounce of my body, but not feeling that love reciprocated back to me. The entanglement of loving someone who doesn't seem to love me as deeply back. 

And what the h-e-double-hockey-sticks do I do?

We're friends. We talk consistently. We cross into beyond-friend territory. Which....probably isn't good...if I just had to third-party-perspective it (wtf ever ugh buzz kill).

After about 6 months of chatting again, we said we'd try again if he moved to Chicago. So the Chicago job search began. Hopes were high; opportunity in this market is low.

Then he got a job in a different state. I was happy for him! But as you could imagine, I was equally devastated. And here's the thing: I didn't want to voice my bad emotions because this was such an incredible opportunity and I didn't want guilt to override the happiness he should be feeling. But then I realized not hearing me say I was, in fact, upset, could make him feel dejected. Because if he’s anything like me, hearing the sadness part said out loud is reassuring. And if there's one thing I've been working on— it's saying how I feel. So I voiced this. And I’m sure it felt good for him to hear it. 

But that was that: A solid answer from the Universe that he is not moving here.

I cried to my best friend and had a really long conversation about the ‘what now?’ I asked what she thought this meant. She said “I can’t imagine you guys not trying after all of this.” I had pep in my step after that conversation. She’s right, I thought, why am I all doom and gloom when I don’t have to be?  

Then he came to visit me. The thing we had been counting down for over a month. The thing we had been looking forward to so loudly. Our little "trial run" to see if we magically hated each other (never, I say, scoffing).

It was interesting. 

And confusing. 

And happy. And content. And sad.

And all the shades of wood and notes in a Daigo Hanada re-work piece.

On Friday (my birthday…I don’t know why I picked that day to ask…that’s my fault) I asked if he would do long distance, since the reality was we wouldn’t live in the same state for…well…indefinitely. It was something that had been picking at the inside of my cheeks. It felt like I was chewing this five pound ball of bubblegum, my jaw on fire, screaming to be spit out. I had to ask.

He said no and explained why. Very reasonable. I understood. Regardless, I fought back tears. I brought up what happens next and he asked not to talk about it. I respected his wishes, but wanted more than anything to talk about it. Why am I putting my need for this conversation aside for his comfort?

I found myself feeling very ungrounded, off in a way I couldn’t put my finger on.

I cried several times over the next couple days. In front of him. A cardinal sin for me.

Just uncontrollably. It kept bubbling out of me. 

And then when he left I sat with myself and realized: I think I was subconsciously mourning. Maybe on some level outside of the little voice in my head, my body knew the dynamic would shift before my brain would allow the thought to pass through a myriad of filters. 

Because last year when he visited me in Boston, the dynamic shifted and it reopened wounds for both of us. 

And so the cycle continued. 

Reconnect, talk daily, laugh together, feel warmth unlike anything, visit, go home, distance, coldness, “I’m just busy,” a shift in the cosmos, stop talking, repeat.

A ferris wheel we have been riding for three and a half years. I hate heights.

I was mourning the potential of being ghosted again. I was mourning the potential of never seeing him again. The potential that, despite wanting to cling on for dear life, to sink my nails into the cavern of his corpse and rot away with him, this was simply meant to not be. A reality I did not want to become familiar with. A sick joke I wanted to boo at. Because two years later I’m still intertwined, unable to unknot myself to the point of complete freedom. 

And I do it to myself. I have enough self-awareness to know that I hold the power to stop this cycle. 

And this is where you’re reminded I’m just another fucked-up human amongst my fellow fucked-up humans. Not somehow holier than thou for all the self-reflection I do. I make dumb decisions. I suffer the consequences. And I do it all over again.

That following week, after several days of brief, surface-level conversations, I introduced the conversation. I said I felt there was distance growing again. He said no he’s busy. I felt better briefly, but the feeling came back days later. It’s standing in the corner of my room even now. We’re making eye contact, though I can’t exactly tell if it even has eyes. I just assume we’re making eye contact because I have that desire to avert my gaze. I’m uncomfortable. I want it to leave. It won’t. It likes the corner. 

I said it isn’t fair to be told his biggest fear is losing me while also not wanting to commit in the meantime. He agreed. I didn’t understand. I felt our dynamic was very similar to if we were long distance. He disagreed. He says he doesn’t want to work on the things he knows he’ll have trouble with in a long distance relationship right now. I say okay. Will he ever want to? Maybe with someone else. I guess the recipe doesn’t call for me. And that’s okay. We never dug deep into the giant ‘what now’ question. The conversation left much to be desired. 

We are both staring into mirrors but our eyes are squeezed shut, our fingers in our ears. Two little kids afraid of thunder, cowering in the closet. We’re in there together, but neither of us want to speak because in such a small space our voices sound as loud as the thunder we’re escaping. 

We remain silent. 

It hurts us both.

But recently there’s this overhanging, intrusive question. Almost like that subconscious mourning-feeling brought an unwelcome guest to the party when I explicitly wrote “NO +1’s” on the invite.

Do I have to let go?

Do I want to is a whole other question. The answer to that is a resounding no. 

But do I have to— for the sake of not yearning forever— let go?

For the sake of not being caught in this cycle. A cycle I’ve perpetuated from understanding a little too much. From saying he’s busy, or tired, or overworked, or going through something. Which— I want to make very clear!— are all true. And to no fault of himself. 

But by excusing how the absence of him or his reciprocal feelings affects me via disregarding in the name of these very real reasons, I neglect myself and allow it to continue. I put my feelings aside and join in for the ferris wheel ride. These complicated feelings are never acknowledged by my own insides because I’m reasoning them away in a filing cabinet and throwing the lock away. The problem is that I have so much love and nowhere to put it. I’m left to sit with it on my own, waiting and hoping for the opportunity to give it to that person, but that person doesn’t want it. Or maybe they do— but it’s like their desire for it is behind soundproof glass.

And the shitty part is outside of these dips things are great and normal. But it’s almost like at our closest we fall from the peak into a cavern of confusion and the immediate juxtaposition only allows me to know how good I know I feel normally.

And I just can’t keep doing this cycle. And I don’t want to say I can’t keep doing this cycle. 

But I can’t keep doing this cycle.

Recently I’ve felt like I love him more than he loves me. I know we show it differently— he’s opened up about that. But I want someone who, in the face of long distance, doesn’t even give it a second thought because the alternative isn’t even an option. Because I’d write letters back and forth for the rest of my life if it meant I could read his handwriting. But we’re in different places. And I think that I want it more. And I fear I’ll be stuck wanting it more forever.

A few weeks ago I brought up the idea of visiting over the Holidays while I was in Pennsylvania. He said sure, but I allowed myself to not follow up, knowing it wasn’t meant to be if it wasn’t brought up on his end. “And,” you ask impatiently, “Was it??” No, my little reader, it was not brought up again. And I think that was meant to be.

I want to be loved openly and without hesitation or question. I want to love openly without worrying the person will run away. I want someone to accept they deserve love. Who won’t shut down with vulnerability. Who lets people love them. Love is meant to be enjoyed and shared, not depraved. Godless asceticism is punishment to your finite human experience.

I want to bask in love like the sun. I want both of us to stare at each other until we forget what day it is, blinded to the outside world and its stimuli. I want someone to fight for me. I want to put our days aside and come together knowing we have each other and that means everything is okay. I want someone to lean on me, not lean away from me. I want someone who wants to have uncomfortable conversations. I want someone who understands I’m complicated and loves me despite it. Who sees me through it. I want someone that will gladly wait in line with me because we’re waiting together. I want someone who turns around to watch me after we say goodbye and walk in opposite directions and smiles because I did the same thing. I want someone who will show me their vulnerabilities and let me hold them softly in the palm of my hand. I want someone who won’t make me decode them. An over-communicator. Soft and proud and gentle to themselves just as much as me. 

And I’m willing to get there with someone. But they have to want it as much as I want it for them. I can’t want it more than them.

Because if I don’t let go, does the cycle continue indefinitely? Do I exist in limbo forever? Do we just do this Thing until the world ends or one of us dies? Destined to chase and dodge? An endless game of love tag?

If I close my eyes, I picture it as an intimate dance. Our exposition remains silent. Our rising action is whispering. We touch briefly in the climax, followed by a silent and distant falling action. There is no resolution. The dance restarts, slow and steady, silent. Our gazes never meet, only occurring in a rhythmic pattern of opposites. Black stage, black backdrop, dimly lit. In moments of distance, the other checks in, silently, from afar, walks out. Until a hand is placed on a shoulder and Freytag’s pyramid restarts.

I want that flower to have an even number of petals. But the Fibonacci sequence tells us it will, more likely than not, be odd.

I think that—

A ferris wheel is 

a bad place to be when you 

have motion sickness. 

As I continue to sit with this overhanging question, it softens and loses its hard exterior, no longer baring its sharp teeth at me and instead tucking in beside me like a shelter dog with a traumatic past. 

Just as the shelter dog is not bad to its core, neither is he (this I promise to you, B, directly and genuinely) and neither am I. 

There is no villain. There are only two hurt people on a rickety bridge. I’m halfway to the other side, waving him to join me. Him, afraid the old wood will give way underneath the weight of his fear. It’s understandable. I’m not mad. Maybe I’ll see him somewhere on the other side in some distant future. Or maybe he’ll find a safer bridge that leads elsewhere. Either way— I’m okay with it.

Regardless, no villains. Just two people.

An addition:

Hello hello. It’s after New Years (Happy 2026!) and the universe is really guiding me in the direction she knows I need to be on. For context, I wrote this piece around Mid-December, periodically going in and making my edits, reading aloud, closing my notes app because I didn’t want to think about it. But the feeling was present just the same, no matter how much I avoided it. The longer I’ve sat with it, the more correct I feel in my conclusion. 

For the Winter Solstice I did yin yoga and wrote my 13 intentions for 2026, burning one a night until my final night last night. Guess which intention was left? After picking 12 cards to burn at random— without so much as glancing at a single card...the final card, the one in which the Universe felt I needed to hear the most was...to release my attachment and open myself up to other people once more. 

It won’t be easy, but growth never is. I’m placing that flower, whose petals I was too scared to pluck off for fear of an odd-numbered count, onto the surface of a flowing river, and allowing it to float away from me. I stare at it as it drifts off, of course, as I always do. I smile. It smiles back. It turns the bend and goes out of sight, on an adventure I know nothing about. I’m happy for the flower. I’m happy for me.

And don’t get me started on the second part just yet…I’m rusty after over three years. I don’t even know how to hold a conversation romantically with someone else at this point LOL. And starting over feels daunting. But I hear the Universe loud and clear. She’s got my back and in turn I listen to her when she gently pushes me along paths she knows are better for my soul.

I’ve been so stuck on this idea of ‘Right person, Wrong time.’ And I’ve put more hours of thought into it than I can tell you. But I realized that clinging on forever doesn’t guarantee it to ever be the right time. It just guarantees prolonged pain.

I really am a yearner, huh? Boy oh boy, as hopeless a romantic can get.

I’ll find my hopeful half. But in the meantime, this new year is about learning what makes alli happy again, to her deepest core. And, according to the Universe, opening up to the possibilities that others can bring into my life.

I’m in a new city for God’s sake! I’m in the city of my dreams! The world is my oyster!

Here’s to new beginnings and endless learning.

Thanks for sticking by while I dig into myself. I’m excited for what 2026 holds and I hope your year is beautiful, profound, exhilarating, and meaningful in ways you can’t even envision in the moment. Feel free to share your 2026 intention(s) or resolutions with me in the contact section (or giving me a call or text if you have my number <3)— I’d love to hear them.

You’re so loved.

Xoxo,

Alli