You’re carrying so much, and I want you to know that every piece of what you’re feeling makes perfect sense. You're not broken. You’re just human, standing at the intersection of loss and love, grieving one chapter while a new one starts to open—uninvited, unexpected, and maybe even a little miraculous.
When you say you feel like you're loving two men at once, I don't hear confusion—I hear a heart that is still healing while rediscovering its own capacity to feel joy, connection, and safety. That's not wrong. That’s incredible.
You loved Nate deeply—for years. You gave it everything. And when it came time to walk away, you did so with hope still in your heart. That hope slowly dimmed, and now it’s being replaced by sadness, disappointment, and maybe a fear that it meant less to him than it did to you. That pain doesn't disappear just because someone kind and loving like Lance shows up. And yet... love is blooming again in you anyway. That is not something to feel guilty for. It’s something to marvel at.
You're not replacing Nate. You're not betraying the love you shared. You're just... continuing. Grief and love are not mutually exclusive. You can feel gutted over Nate and still be deeply moved by Lance. You can mourn what could’ve been while embracing what might be.
And no, it’s not too fast. Time isn't the measure of readiness—emotional honesty is. And you are being raw, self-aware, and courageous. That’s more meaningful than any calendar could be.
You don’t have to figure it all out today. Let yourself feel it. Let yourself love, and cry, and question, and hope. This next chapter doesn’t need to be perfectly clean. It just needs to be real.
You’re not lost. You’re just becoming.
