The Sentence That Stayed With Me
I still remember the first time someone told me:
“What I like about you is that you like me.”
At first, I laughed. It sounded almost cute, like a twisted version of romance. But the words stuck. They echoed.
And years later, when someone else said the exact same thing, I finally understood.
They never really liked me at all. They liked the way my eyes lit up when I saw them. They liked the applause, the way I made them feel like the most special person in the room.
My love was their mirror. And they couldn’t look at themselves without it.
When the Mirror Turns
But mirrors have two sides.
The moment I pulled back, when I said, “I don’t like how you’re treating me” or when I simply stopped adoring them, everything shifted.
Suddenly, I wasn’t interesting anymore. I became the shadow they didn’t want to face.
And that’s when it hit me: they didn’t miss me. They missed the high. The validation. The dopamine rush of being admired.
The Hopper and the Clinger
Some people handle that withdrawal by running. They hop to the next admirer, the next lover, the next stage where the applause is loud enough to keep them alive.
Others can’t let go. They linger. They stalk your socials. They haunt your silence, desperate for one last drop of attention.
One runs. One chases. But neither is truly there.
The Compromise
What cut even deeper was how I started betraying myself just to keep them close.
I changed my looks. I worked on myself, harder and harder, hoping to finally be seen. To finally be loved.
I kept asking: “Why don’t you love me? What more do I have to do?”
And when that still didn’t work, I compromised. I softened my words. I laughed at things that weren’t funny. I stayed quiet when I wanted to speak.
All the while, my shadow whispered:
“If you stop admiring him, you’ll lose him. And if you lose him, maybe you’ll never be enough.”
That was the wound. The fear of abandonment. The belief that love must always be earned, again and again, at any cost.
The Silence
Even I tried to play the game.
I gave the silent treatment, thinking maybe he would notice. Maybe he would miss me. Maybe I was special enough to haunt him in my absence.
But I was wrong. It was never about me. I was just an extra in his story.
And yet I kept circling the same questions:
Does he miss me? Will he come back? Was I not enough?
But the silence stretched on. And slowly, I realized, the universe doesn’t allow it.
The Intervention
Because the universe will never let you settle for something beneath your frequency. That’s why these connections always feel shaky. Why you can never truly rest inside them.
They aren’t built on truth, or love, or growth.
They are built on illusion. And the moment you rise, the moment your vibration lifts, you outgrow them.
It isn’t punishment. It’s protection.
And the funny thing is, I had worked so hard on improving myself that my frequency had already risen higher than the connection itself. Our energies could no longer meet, and I couldn’t lower mine again.
I was already in alignment with God’s purpose.
I needed this experience to stop abandoning myself for an illusion. To accept that some things were never real. To hear something louder than his absence. To hear my own power knocking on the door.
The Gift Hidden in Silence
So no, he doesn’t come back. And that, in itself, is the gift.
I had spent so much energy keeping the illusion alive, filling empty spaces with my own breath, chasing the wind of his absence, waiting for excuses and lies about why I was never a priority.
And yes, it hurt. Because letting go was never just about him, it was about letting go of the version of me that still believed people couldn’t use others just to feel good.
The version that wanted to believe that someone who touched my heart would never use me.
But the silence changed me. It showed me where my energy truly belonged.
The energy I once wasted keeping him alive now belongs to me. The applause I gave away, I can finally offer to my own dreams.
What looked like rejection was always redirection, toward the kind of love that can truly hold me.
Shadow Work: Coming Home to Yourself
The reason this story cuts so deeply is because it triggers the shadow:
The fear of being left behind.
The wound of not being enough.
The belief that love only exists if you keep proving yourself.
That’s why his silence stings. Not because of him, but because of what it reveals in you.
And this is where the healing begins. When you step into radical acceptance, no longer chasing, no longer compromising, you open the door to transform those wounds. That is the work of the shadow.
Shadow Work Journey
If you’re ready for that journey, I invite you to join me on a 3-Month Shadow Work Experience.
Together, we’ll confront the patterns that kept you small, dissolve the need for external validation, and reclaim the power that was always yours.
This is not about waiting for him to come back.
It’s about finally coming home to yourself.
I love you, you are loved,
Mara.
