i see you.

i'm proud of you.

If all you knew growing up was passive aggression, you can learn instead to ask genuine questions or actually discuss problems with your friends when there's conflict.

If those around you only responded to being stressed or overstimulated with yelling, you can learn instead to manage your emotions when your dog is being incredibly frustrating.

If you were put down or derided for having needs, you can learn instead to acknowledge and respect and care for those parts of yourself instead.

growing up with a parent like that—someone who sets the standard for everything, who decides what’s right and wrong so absolutely—you don’t really get the space to figure yourself out. you just learn how to meet expectations. or at least how to try. and when you fall short, it doesn’t feel like you made a mistake, it feels like you are the mistake.

arthur was basically taught that love is conditional. that approval comes from being strong, being controlled, being “right.” there’s no room for doubt, or softness, or questioning anything. so of course he grows up rigid, defensive, sometimes harsh—because that’s what was modeled for him.

and i get that. like, when you’re used to being judged or corrected all the time, you start doing it to yourself. you second guess everything. you overcompensate. you either shut down or get defensive because it feels like you’re always one step away from being told you’re not good enough.

and then there’s the part where you still want their approval anyway. even when you know they’re wrong, even when they’ve hurt you, there’s still that instinct to prove yourself to them. to make them proud. and it’s frustrating because it keeps you tied to them in a way you don’t always want to be.

arthur carries that constantly. you can see how much of what he does is shaped by trying to live up to his father, even when he starts to realize his father’s worldview is flawed. and that kind of shift—when you realize the person who raised you isn’t always right, or maybe even caused harm—that messes with your sense of everything. because if they were wrong about that, what else were they wrong about? what does that make you, when you were raised on it?

i think that’s why he struggles so much with change. not because he’s incapable of it, but because changing means admitting that the foundation you were built on isn’t solid.

and i relate to that a lot. the unlearning. the guilt that comes with it. the feeling that you’re betraying something, even if that something hurt you. the way it takes time to separate who you actually are from who you were told to be.

arthur’s growth feels real to me because it’s not instant. he messes up. he clings to old beliefs. he has to be shown things more than once. but he does change, slowly, and it comes from questioning what he was taught and choosing something different, even when it’s hard.

𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪

I have been sitting with this for a while because I never wanted to hurt anybody.

I do not think she is a bad person.

I do not think I am heartless.

I think two people can be hurting at the same time and still not be good for each other.

That is something I am learning.

I know what it is like to want to be loved. I know what it is like to be lonely. I know what it is like to want someone to understand you when the rest of the world feels heavy. I know what it is like to hold on to people because you are afraid of being left behind.

But I also know what it feels like when somebody else’s pain slowly starts becoming your responsibility.

And somewhere along the way, kindness started feeling like an obligation.

I never meant for that to happen.

I never promised forever.

I never promised commitment.

I never promised to carry anyone.

I thought we were simply talking. I thought we were two people trying to make it through life and finding comfort in conversation. Nothing more and nothing less.

But feelings grew, and suddenly I felt guilty for not feeling the same way.

And guilt is a terrible reason to stay.

Love should never have to be forced.

It should never have to be begged for.

And it should never make another person feel trapped.

I watched someone I cared about struggle.

I watched hospital visits, relapses, arguments, and chaos. I listened to painful voicemails. I witnessed behaviors that scared me and reminded me of things I have spent years trying to heal from.

I forgave a lot because forgiveness comes naturally to me.

But forgiveness and trust are not the same thing.

Compassion and responsibility are not the same thing.

And caring about somebody does not mean sacrificing your own peace.

That was a hard lesson for me.

Because I have spent much of my life believing I had to save people.

I grew up around manipulation. I grew up around guilt. I learned early that love sometimes came with conditions and emotional burdens. So when somebody hands me their pain, my first instinct is to carry it.

But I am learning that some things were never mine to carry.

Recovery belongs to the person recovering.

Healing belongs to the person healing.

Love belongs to two people, not one.

No human being should become another person’s entire world.

That is too much pressure.

And it is not love.

It is fear.

I do not blame her for wanting love.

I do not blame myself for needing peace.

Maybe we were both searching for something neither one of us could give the other.

Maybe she wanted certainty.

Maybe I wanted simplicity.

Maybe we both wanted comfort.

And maybe neither of us realized how much pain we were bringing into the room.

I hope she finds healing.

Not because I owe it to her, but because I genuinely wish that for her.

And I hope I continue learning that having boundaries does not make me cruel.

It makes me honest.

Because love should never feel like a rescue mission.

And kindness should never feel like a life sentence.

Sometimes the kindest thing two hurting people can do is stop expecting each other to be God.

And sometimes the greatest act of love is accepting that not everybody who enters your life is meant to stay.

Some people come to teach us.

Some people come to wake us up.

And some people come to remind us that healing is a personal journey nobody else can walk for us.

I do not hate her.

I just finally understand that I cannot carry both of us.

And maybe that lesson was meant for the both of us.

Sometimes loving someone means praying for their healing from a distance. And sometimes healing means learning that compassion does not require self-sacrifice. The butterfly is still becoming.”

Until the next chapter of becoming……

⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪ ⠀⠀𐔌❤︎ ˖ ࣪