A Letter to the Girl Who Can’t Let Go

I’m writing this letter to you so you’ll know that there will be a time in your life when he isn’t a part of it.

Image for post
Image for post


It’s been exactly a year since y’all spoke. You should be proud. It took you having a come-to-Jesus moment half drunk off of whiskey for you to get to this point but… be proud. God spoke to you when your guard was down. You weren’t listening to that voice any other way, it seemed.

I’m writing this letter to you so you’ll know that there will be a time in your life when he isn’t a part of it. And you’re okay with it. You’ll think about him often, wonder how he’s doing and if he’s doing okay. You just won’t have the energy to reach out to him to find out. And that, Sis, is a beautiful place to be. You’re harboring your energy in the right places, spaces and, most importantly, people.

Know that you’re going to think about him a lot. You’ll be triggered by certain songs you hear on your playlist but you’ll adore those artists you coerced yourself into liking for his approval more now. They’ll be anthems of liberation not prison. You’ll memorize those lyrics out of love not for his love.

Don’t beat yourself up for what happened. You’ll find yourself doing that a lot. Take ownership for what you didn’t do right. Take inventory of what you don’t want in a friendship — in a man — going forward. You’ll have a long list of what you won’t tolerate anymore and he helped build that for you. Give him love and grace for just that alone.

You’ll take inventory for a lot of what transpired between you both. You’ll see God’s grace in a lot of what didn’t occur in your time together. You’ll see him a lesson learned and not as a stain on your life. No human is a stain, even you. You’re worth a lot more than what that relationship did to you. You’re worth a lot more than what he did to you. You’re worth a lot more than what you believed you failed to produce in that relationship. You’re worth a lot more than the insecurities he projected onto you and the insecurities you hoped he could fix for you.

Practice forgiveness. He isn’t the worst person to ever grace this Earth. He isn’t even the worst mistake you ever made. Your forgiveness allows for that space he occupied to be vacated for something — or someone — that can better take care of that void. No, you’re not trying to find another one of him. You’re going to find yourself drawn to men similar to him. It’s going to feel like you can’t break your own chains. But you will. You’ll arrive at a point where you realize when you’re of service and when you’re his slave. Knowing the difference changes your outlook on not only men but life.

All of this is hard though. You’ll fall on your face a lot. You’ll end up with dudes like him in your inbox. You’ll end up erasing emails and texts. You’ll end up reaching out to him to gain closure you already received. You’ll end up meeting up with him and falling on your face, body full of brown liquor, asking God for forgiveness. And you’ll feel that grace and mercy. And you’ll move on. To where you two haven’t spoken in a year.

And this letter will be a covenant between you and God to never write about him again.

I’m proud of you, Ciara. I really am.

Memoirist in spirit and in truth. Christian essayist when both the spirit and truth move me. email: crjtwrites[at]gmail.com

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store