Unattached Love: When Your Heart Holds Space, But Your Life Moves On

Hello Bloomers!

Happy Easter.

Love. A word we use so freely—so often tied to expectations, attachments, and the desire to be loved in return. But what happens when love lingers in the quiet corners of your heart for someone who caused you pain? Someone who made you question your worth… maybe even your safety?

What does it mean to still love someone you’ve consciously, firmly, and irrevocably chosen to walk away from? Someone who seemed to want you gone, yet never fully let you go?

This isn’t a story of hate, resentment, or revenge. It’s a story about a different kind of love—unattached love. A love that acknowledges the past without demanding a future. A love that remains quietly in the heart, a tenant without influence. A love that no longer directs your choices or steals your peace of mind.

For years, my heart held onto someone who, in hindsight, was not good for me. There was no yelling, no slamming doors—but a chilling calmness. A quiet cruelty that cut far deeper than raised voices ever could.

Looking back, I see the signs I ignored. The gut instincts I silenced. The subtle red flags that my hopefulness painted white. Leaving wasn’t an act of bitterness. It was an act of self-preservation. And every time he hinted at walking away, I let him. I never stood in his way. I respected his choice—even when he didn’t respect mine.

But the irony is, while he pushed me away with his words and actions, he never wanted to fully let me go. He asked for space, but never gave me the freedom to move on. He kept me in orbit—close enough to reach, but far enough to wound.

And still… the love persisted. Not as desire. Not as hope. But as a quiet echo of what once was—a kind of love from afar. Detached, but real. I didn’t want him back. I still don’t. And I never want to run into him again. Not by accident, not in passing, not ever. He can stay far, far, far away—just where he belongs.

The turning point wasn’t explosive. There was no final scream, no slammed door. Just a quiet awakening. A realization that I mattered. That my well-being wasn’t optional. That I deserved a life free of quiet harm.

Eventually, the desire for his presence faded. Not with bitterness, but with peace. That’s what unattached love is. Not an excuse for the pain. Not a denial of what happened. But an understanding that love, in its purest form, doesn’t need possession to be real.

It’s the kind of love that can honor the lesson, without inviting back the teacher. The kind that doesn’t erase the memory, but reframes it. A chapter closed, with grace—not grief.

I don’t hate him. But I don’t want him in my life. That’s the truth. And I’ve made peace with it.

Unattached love is a quiet strength. It lets you carry your truth without carrying the person. It lets you move on, with love in your heart but none in your path. It gives you space to breathe, to grow, to live—unburdened and free.

As Whitney Houston once sang:

> "Learning to love yourself, it is the greatest love of all."

— Lyrics by Linda Creed, Music by Michael Masser

Until next time, Bloomers, remember to be kind to yourself and others! 🌸

And if you need a moment of comfort, warmth, or nostalgia, come explore my handcrafted mini soaps at Scente Creations—where scent meets soul.