A few years ago, I fell in love with someone I barely knew.

It was springtime, and I was all in. I packed up my life and moved to the other side of the country to be with him. I blindly followed my heart, knowing without a doubt that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be. Those months with that love were something I’d never experienced before.

I was hopelessly devoted to him.

By autumn, my world crashed around me. His job asked him to move, and he felt it was better if I didn’t come. He didn’t know if this was what he wanted. I wasn’t who he thought I was going to be.

He said everything except, “I’m not in love with you.”

But I knew—and my heart broke. It shattered me to my core. My life was crumbling around me. Brick by brick, my foundation collapsed. This was a level of heartbreak I didn’t know was possible. Unable to eat, physically aching, most days I could only take things a minute at a time. I was hurting for answers. Hurting for clarity. Hurting for anything to make it go away.

So I cried. I prayed. I wrote. I searched for answers. And I fled.

I moved to a new city. I worked so hard to heal—so hard. I poured myself into exploring a fresh career and a new way of living. I dated. I made new friends. I opened up to higher levels of spiritual learning. I helped others. I shared love without abandon.

I released him as much as I could. I ached to be free of the hold he had on those fragments of my soul. I longed to stop loving him, while clinging to the what-ifs of a distant future that I knew he couldn’t be a part of. I held out hope that maybe, somehow, we would do it differently in this lifetime.

Time passed.

I still hurt. I hurt so badly. All it took was an old song or online reminder to tear open the wound I had barely sewn shut. And so, I finally surrendered to it. It was still there, and it was time to accept my aching. I said, “I’m ready to be in pain. I’m ready to feel this hurt. I’m ready to let it be what it is. I accept it all.”

In my acceptance, a profound healing unfurled.

I found a sense of gratitude I didn’t know was possible. I saw my old love as a hero of sorts. He came into my world, lit it up and burned that motherf*cker down. He ignited the fire within me that I had neglected for years. He proved to me what I was capable of and inspired me to strive for bigger and better. He showed me it takes just as much courage to be the heartbreaker, as it does to be the heartbroken.

I finally found true love. Not for him, but for me.

I found an unconditional love that changed everything. I felt a light come back into me, that I hadn’t felt in lifetimes. That spark he lit billowed into lapping flames of passion that fueled my healing.

He prepared me for higher levels of love. My heartbreak paved the way for a gentle flow of love I had only dreamed of. My past heartbreak didn’t harden me. It didn’t scare me away from love. My heartbreak taught me that I didn’t need to fall to fully receive.

I finally had awoken to my truth, and I was ready.

I found love again.

Here I was, starting a relationship with someone I knew only from a distance. I knew I loved him almost upon sight. It sounded familiar. To some, it was like an old script with new characters. But no, this was a new stage—a completely different theater.

I entered a new dimension.

Love sailed effortlessly into my life. This new love has shown me how essential it is for grace and compassion to fuel our hearts. His love teaches me every day that I am here to always love more—to love stronger, gentler, and higher.

This love is easy.

It’s so damn easy. In its ease is pure magic. A spell that has granted me a clarity that love doesn’t have to be hard. It doesn’t need to be push-pull. We must let go of this pretense. Abandon the saga. Release this narrative. We’re allowed to flow in love, to rise in love.

We are worthy of higher love.

Author: Leila Christine

Image: Author’s own

Editor: Callie Rushton