- latifahbauthor
- Jul 21
- 4 min read
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There comes a moment on every soul’s journey when protecting your peace isn’t a luxury—it’s survival. Especially for those of us evolving. Those who’ve decided we’re no longer shrinking, bending, or breaking ourselves just to keep others comfortable. When you’re stepping into purpose, shedding old skin becomes essential. That includes outdated habits, expired relationships, and versions of yourself that can’t come with you where you’re going.
I used to be the one who overextended, over-explained, and over-apologized. I carried relationships on my back. I made excuses for people’s behavior. I convinced myself that being "the strong one" meant tolerating emotional labor without reciprocity. That was a chapter I wrote with good intentions—but also with wounded patterns.
Let me be honest about what depletion looked like in my life:
It looked like being emotionally exhausted after every conversation. It looked like walking on eggshells to keep the peace. It looked like crying in silence and still showing up with a smile. It looked like suppressing my own needs so others could be comfortable. It looked like pretending things were okay just to avoid confrontation. It looked like losing pieces of myself to hold on to people who were already letting go.
And here’s the truth I wasn’t always brave enough to say out loud:I didn’t always have the strength to walk away.
So instead, I stayed.I let the relationship run its course while I waited—hoping, praying, enduring.And when it ended, it wasn’t because I closed the door. It was because they walked out.And I stayed behind, sitting in the rubble, gathering the fragments of who I used to be.
I picked up the pieces quietly. Alone. Slowly. And painfully.Not because I was weak—but because I was waking up.Waking up to the truth that the version of me who tolerated mistreatment wasn’t broken—she was becoming. She just didn’t know her worth yet.
Let me be clear: I’m not the victim in this story. I’m the victor. Because the moment I chose growth, I chose myself. And that meant being honest about the role I played in my own depletion.
But here’s what we don’t talk about enough:To become new, you must grieve what was.Even when the ending is necessary, it still hurts.
Let’s name it. The grieving process is real. You’ll likely walk through every stage:
Denial: You tell yourself it’s just a rough patch. That things will go back to how they were. That if you just try harder, it’ll feel safe again.
Anger: At them—for taking your love for granted. And at yourself—for abandoning your own boundaries for so long.
Bargaining: You ask, “What if I just explain it better?” or “Maybe if I show up differently, they’ll change.” You offer more than you should, just to make it work.
Depression: The weight of truth hits hard. You sit with the loss—not just of the person, but of the version of you that once believed this could last.
Acceptance: Peace. Not because it doesn’t hurt anymore—but because you stop resisting the truth. You know now: not everyone is meant to go where you’re going.
Grieving is sacred. It honors the fact that you gave fully. But it also clears space for your rebirth.
I’ve grieved the version of myself that was afraid to say no.I’ve grieved the relationships I maintained by abandoning myself.I’ve grieved the dreams I had for people who weren’t ready—or willing—to grow.And I’ve forgiven myself—for staying too long, for ignoring the signs, for believing I had to earn love.
Now? I choose peace. I choose clarity. I choose purpose.
When you begin to rise, not everyone will clap. Some will call you distant, selfish, or unrecognizable. Let them. Misery needs company—and when you stop showing up to the dysfunction, the invitations stop coming. That’s not rejection—it’s redirection.
And here’s where the line gets drawn:“Access Denied” must become your mantra.
No more re-engaging. No more guilt-fueled replies. No more reopening doors you locked for a reason. Closure isn’t always a conversation—it’s a decision. A silent vow to never again betray your own spirit in the name of connection.
The loneliness that follows isn’t punishment—it’s preparation. Fewer voices. Sharper vision. Deeper alignment.
Let people tell their version of the story. You’re not here to defend yourself to those committed to misunderstanding you.
Your silence is not weakness—it’s wisdom .
Your peace is not passive—it’s power.
Your healing is not selfish—it’s sacred.
You no longer owe anyone access to your energy, your mind, your time, or your spirit. Guard it fiercely. Walk away boldly. Rest deeply. Love yourself radically.
To every expired relationship, every old version of me, every space where I once dimmed my light just to belong
To anyone, anything, any habit or relationship that threatens that peace
Access denied. And it stays that way.
Welcome to your season of purpose, power, and profound peace.
Welcome to your season of purpose, power, and peace.
You didn’t lose them.
You found you
You're Welcome!