On Going Back

You know that feeling, you're already typing that text you swore you'd never send again. We've all been there – going back to people, and things who've hurt us, even when every logical part of our brain is kicking against it.

I'm writing this because I've lived this pattern more times than I care to admit. And if you're reading this, chances are you have too.

The Story We Tell Ourselves

Here's what I've noticed about myself: when I'm in that moment of going back, I become a master storyteller. Suddenly, I'm only remembering the good times – the way they made me laugh.

The hurt? It starts feeling like maybe I was being too sensitive. Maybe I misunderstood.

And then there's the hope. Maybe they've changed. Maybe they finally get it. Maybe this time will be different.

We focus on their potential like it's more real than their actual behavior. We'll give more weight to who someone could be than who they've consistently shown us they are.

What Happens in the Waiting

Time has this sneaky way of softening the sharp edges of pain while keeping the warm memories crystal clear. And during this time, we start the bargaining.

We tell ourselves we're stronger now, we can handle it better, we know what to expect. We convince ourselves we're going back from a position of power when really, we're going back from the same vulnerable place we always do.

What We're Really Looking For

If I'm being honest with myself – and with you – I think we go back because familiar pain feels safer than unknown possibility.

We tell ourselves we want closure, or we want to prove something to them, but really? I think we're trying to prove something to ourselves. That we're worthy of better treatment. That we matter enough for them to change. That the story can have a different ending if we just try hard enough.

There's comfort in the familiar, even when the familiar hurts. At least we know what to expect.

The Moment Everything Changes

But here's what I've learned, and what I want you to know: the moment of real power isn't when you're strong enough to resist going back. It's when you're standing there again, in that familiar hurt, and something in you changes.

Maybe it's the third time, maybe it's the tenth. But there's this moment when the pattern becomes so undeniable that even our masterful storytelling can't cover it up anymore. When the hope finally bumps up against reality so hard that something shifts.

For me, it was realizing I was more invested in the fantasy of who they could be than the reality of who they were choosing to be. I was grieving someone who never actually existed.

The Permission We Need to Give Ourselves

Here's something nobody tells you: you need to grieve not just the person, but the potential you saw in them. That version of them that was going to change, going to see your worth, going to make it all make sense – that person was never real. And it's okay to be sad about that.

You don't have to be angry to leave. You don't have to hate them to protect yourself. You can love someone and still choose differently for yourself.

Moving Forward (Messily)

I wish I could tell you I figured this out perfectly and never looked back. But real life isn't that clean. I still have moments where I miss the good parts. I still catch myself wondering "what if."

The difference now is that I recognize these thoughts for what they are – echoes of an old pattern. I don't have to act on every feeling or follow every thought down the rabbit hole.

Some patterns take time to break. Be patient with yourself. Be gentle with the part of you that hopes for the best in people, even when they've shown you otherwise. That's not weakness – that's your heart working exactly as it should. You just don't have to let it make all your decisions for you.

A Final Thought

If you're reading this and seeing yourself in these words, know that you're not broken for hoping. You're not stupid for going back. You're human, trying to make sense of love and hurt and all the messy spaces in between.

The pattern only has power when we're unconscious of it. Once you see it – really see it – you get to choose differently. Not perfectly, not immediately, but differently.

And that's enough to start.