You Can’t Fix Someone Who’s Comfortable Breaking You
You call it love. It’s fear. You can love someone and still leave. This is what happens when you finally stop mistaking effort for safety.
You don’t run a family business.
You carry one.
You clean up messes no one thanks you for.
You keep the lights on while everyone else argues about who deserves credit.
And when you burn out, you still show up — because no one else will.
Grief doesn’t ask for permission. It shows up, sits down, and dares you to keep pretending you’re fine. The world keeps spinning. The bills don’t stop. You still have clients, kids, deadlines, expectations. Everyone wants you “back.” But you’re not gone — you’re just different now.
People still roll their eyes when I say my clients work with me virtually. They picture a half-awake coach on Zoom, nodding along. Cute. Meanwhile, my clients are ending cycles, setting boundaries, and rebuilding peace — all from their kitchen tables.
You call it love. It’s fear. You can love someone and still leave. This is what happens when you finally stop mistaking effort for safety.