Writing my life out on the pavement

I’ve been in a loving relationship for the past 3 months, possibly the best 3 months of my entire life. He’s the most handsome man, and beyond that, he fills my life with joy in ways I didn’t even know I was missing. I feel protected. I feel supported. I feel wanted.

And yet… I still catch myself waiting for something to go wrong.

This isn’t about him. He’s shown up for me in every way possible, with patience, with presence, and with a kind of consistency I never experienced in my 10-year marriage. A marriage where I often felt emotionally alone, mentally drained, and completely unseen. I got used to working for love. Begging for it, really. So when it arrives naturally, without me having to prove myself or earn it, my nervous system doesn’t know what to do with it.

So here comes the self-sabotage.

The thoughts that whisper, “This is too good to be true.”
The urge to pull away before I get “too attached.”
The stories I tell myself about not being enough—or being “too much.”

It’s wild how a heart that’s been through so much can try to protect itself from the very thing it’s always wanted. But I see it now for what it is: fear disguised as control.

Loving someone after leaving a place where love was conditional is terrifying. It makes the safest love feel risky. But I’m learning not to run from it. I’m learning to stay. And thankfully, my new love helps me focus on what we have and not the hypotheticals I tend to conjure up in my mind.

And maybe that’s the biggest shift of all—not just being loved, but believing I deserve it.

But here’s the difference now: I’m not alone in it.

When those insecurities creep in, he sees them. Not because I’m dramatic or making a scene—but because he pays attention. He notices when I get quiet. He hears the shift in my tone. He recognizes when I start pulling away, even slightly—and instead of retreating, he leans in.

He reassures me in the ways I didn’t know I needed. He tells me I’m safe. He reminds me that he’s here, and that he’s not going anywhere. He listens—without trying to fix me. He doesn’t shame me for the damage someone else left behind.

He just… stays.

And that has been one of the most healing things I’ve ever experienced.

Loving someone after leaving a place where love was conditional is terrifying. It makes even the safest love feel risky. But I’m learning not to run from it. I’m learning to trust not just him, but myself.

Because maybe I’m not broken—maybe I’ve just never had the right kind of love until now.

And maybe, just maybe, I do deserve this.