Abandonment and Wounds

We carry wounds for so long, each one building upon the last until the weight becomes unbearable. And when that final hurt strikes, it feels as if it encompasses all the others—the culmination of every unanswered cry, every unreturned affection, every time we dared to be vulnerable and were left standing alone.

Those who hurt us often do so not out of malice, but out of a fear that runs just as deep as their love. They care so much that it overwhelms them. Their love, instead of flowing freely, becomes constricted, twisted by the very fear of losing the one they cherish. And in their fear of being abandoned, they abandon us first. But the greater tragedy is when they abandon themselves—their own authenticity, their true desires, their ability to love fully.

They build walls, fortresses even, not realizing they are both the prisoner and the guard. They believe they are protecting themselves, but in reality, they are locking themselves away from the joy, the passion, and the freedom that comes with love.

Yet, I agree, there is hope. For even those imprisoned by their fears, there remains a possibility of freedom. The key exists, though it is not in our hands to turn the lock—it is theirs. But we can offer the key, patiently, gently. We can stand just outside the prison walls, showing them that love is not something to be feared, but to be embraced. That beyond their walls is not the devastation they fear, but the safety and beauty of two hearts joined in understanding, in truth, and in an unwavering, enduring embrace.

In the end, all we can do is love them where they are, and wait for the day they decide to free themselves and step into the light of that shared, glorious love.