No More Performing Strength Series - Part 1 | I Let My Guard Down - And He Walked Away

I stayed up last night. I couldn't sleep. My mind kept circling the breakup — not the relationship itself, but how it ended. Or rather, how it flatlined.

No emotion. No real goodbye. Silence, like the last page of a book torn out before you could finish the sentence.

What hit me hardest wasn’t the loss of him - it was the realisation that I’m still hurting over how he treated me. How someone took my care like a free sample, not a sacred offering. I let my guard down and faced emotional absence in return.

I didn’t walk into this relationship naïve. I was cautious. Guarded. I’d already been through the kind of love that costs you your peace. I had finished with all that. I had no intention of starting again. But he asked me to reveal my true self, and in the end, I did.

That’s the part that stings.

He wanted my vulnerability. He pursued it. He encouraged it. But once I let go and leaned in, it was as if the game had ended. Like I was prey caught in a net. He left emotionally long before he departed physically. That kind of abandonment is harder to name and to grieve.

He promised he was the opposite of the last guy. The last guy resulted in a financial expense for me. This one? Emotionally. He boasted about how much better he was. Said he brought more to the table.

But when I looked around? The table was empty.

And somehow, it was me left apologising. Me adjusting. Me accommodating. Again.

I knew better. I knew my patterns. I was self-aware enough this time to spot when I was giving too much. But I did it anyway - hoping this time would be different.

I thought my independence was strength. I still do. But he used it as an excuse not to show up. Not to offer anything. Not even the basics: time, effort, presence. All I ever wanted were the little gestures - proof that I wasn’t the only one holding the thread between us.

Instead, I got words. Promises. Ego. He flaunted wealth and gave nothing. And when I called it out - when I said he was tight - he got offended. Not because it wasn’t true. Because I dared to say it out loud.

And that says everything.

The Lesson: Let Them

I’ve been reflecting on Mel Robbins’ idea from her book — the Let Them mindset.

Let them walk away.

Let them dismiss you.

Let them show you who they are.

Why? Because your power is in not chasing. Your healing is in observing without controlling. The moment someone chooses not to value you — let them. Don’t plead for respect. Don’t bargain for crumbs.

Let them be exactly who they are.

And then make a choice from there.

I've realised that the me who stayed too long, gave too much, and hoped too hard deserves peace now. She felt heartbreak and a deep need to prove her worthiness for love that should have come easily.

What I’m Taking With Me

I’m not broken. I’m done performing.

Done trying to contort myself into something more palatable.

Done calling emotional starvation “independence.”

Done pretending it didn’t hurt.

This isn’t about bitterness. It’s about boundaries.

So if you’re reading this, and you’re somewhere between heartbreak and healing — let this be your reminder:

You were never too much.

You were giving to someone who was never good enough.

Let them.

Let yourself move forward. Embrace the softness others told you to hide. Also, value the strength you gained from tough experiences.