By Janelle Celise | LuvMyCrazy
There are moments in life when the truth doesn’t come through words — it comes through heartbreak. I’ve come to realize something that I think many of us who love deeply eventually face: sometimes, what you want isn’t what God wants for you.
There was a time in my life when I held onto someone who made me feel seen, understood, and alive again — a connection that felt rare and almost divine. But beneath those moments of closeness were confusion, silence, and inconsistency. I remember trying to make sense of the mixed signals, only to realize later that the truth both hurt and healed me: God wasn’t withholding love from me — He was protecting me from another lesson I no longer needed to learn.
🌿 The Pattern I Finally Saw
After my husband passed away, I carried a deep need to help and to fix. Loving someone who’s broken felt familiar — almost safe — because it mirrored what I couldn’t save before. Somewhere along the line, my empathy became my weakness. I started mistaking emotional chaos for chemistry.
With time and prayer, I began to see the pattern: I was drawn to people who needed healing because I knew what pain felt like. But God gently showed me that you can’t heal someone else’s wounds by reopening your own. Not every person we’re drawn to is meant to stay — some simply remind us how far we’ve come.
When God Closes the Door, It’s Mercy
As much as it hurts, I see now that when God removes someone from our lives, it isn’t rejection — it’s mercy. He’s teaching us to love without losing ourselves, to help without healing what isn’t ours to fix. And in His mercy, He’s reminding us that peace sometimes arrives disguised as loss.
When someone is emotionally unavailable or avoidant, you can’t pray them into readiness. You can love them from afar, wish them healing, and still choose to walk away. Because you deserve a love that stays, not one that tests your strength.
In the stillness after the storm, I’ve come to understand that I can care deeply without carrying someone else’s pain, and I can love people who are broken without breaking myself in the process. I’ve realized that loyalty should never require self-abandonment, and that my worth doesn’t need to be proven to anyone who can’t already see it. Most of all, I’ve learned that love isn’t meant to hurt—it isn’t meant to drain or test, but to grow and heal. True love feels like peace, not chaos, and I’m finally choosing to believe that I deserve the kind that stays calm, steady, and kind.