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June 23, 2025 at 8:24 am in reply to: Should I Forget about him, or was he the one that got away? #447044
anitaParticipantDear Emma:
Thank you for your kind words and the warmth of your message. When I told you yesterday that you looked “so very, very pretty,” it was before I read the part of your letter where you shared what your mother once said—that you weren’t as pretty as your sister.
I find myself wondering how my compliment landed. Did it make you uncomfortable? Did it feel undeserved? I hope that, even just a little, it touched something tender in you that has longed to feel seen as beautiful.
As for your letter: you didn’t just speak to Philip—you allowed your whole self to be seen. You took honest, heartfelt responsibility for how things unfolded between you, without placing blame or making excuses. Instead, you turned inward, exploring your fears and patterns with compassion and clarity. That makes your voice feel incredibly real.
Your fear of abandonment, your instinct to pull away before being left, and your longing to be enough—all of that came through with such emotional truth. And the way you connected those present-day struggles to old family wounds? You did it with reflection, not self-pity. There’s grace in that.
More than just grieving the relationship, you seem to be mourning the version of yourself who wasn’t quite ready to receive love or believe she was worthy of it. That kind of grief runs deep—and gives the letter its quiet ache.
Though you speak of wishing for another chance, your tone never pressures. It’s tender, filled with longing, but also with acceptance. You voice your hope without using it to bargain or demand.
If this letter were ever to reach him (even if it never will), it wouldn’t cry, “Take me back!” It would whisper: I understand now. I’m sorry. Thank you. You mattered to me. I’ve changed because I knew you.
Yesterday, when I first read the beginning of your letter, a part of me wished you could send at least part of it to Philip. It was so emotionally beautiful, and I hoped it might touch something in him—maybe even spark a desire to get to know you again.
But today, I see more clearly why that might not be a good idea. When someone blocks you—especially after something romantic—it’s a strong signal, something like: I can’t handle any more emotional contact! It’s not just about stopping communication; it’s about protecting their own emotional space.
Sharing your vulnerability is a brave and powerful act—but it also asks the other person to receive it. And in this case, Philip has shown that he can’t—or won’t—do that right now.
Respecting his boundary is an important part of your healing, and it’s the right choice for both your well-being and his.
As to the little you shared about your childhood in this letter- in my next post.
Anita
anitaParticipantJournaling: light outside, All day- no stretches of bluish sky, none through the whole of this Sunday. All grey, all the time.
And no birds. Did see a few rabbits though.
Light outside, no sign of darkness, no sign of the sun.. I remember the sun, bright.. none of that.
Wait, I hear birds.. Yes, oh yes, the relief! I hear them birds.. yes, I hear them, thank you!
… The Worldly Crisis is that of Distrust.
Trust- the most precious commodity.
T.R.U.S.T.
To be worthy of trust- nothing, Nothing more important, Nothing more crucial than making oneself worthy of
T.R.U.S.T.
.. Anita (that’s me.. Anita.. trustworthy)
anitaParticipantDear Alessa:
“I think it was one of your posts that wasn’t addressed specifically where you mentioned that you didn’t want sympathy or empathy.’- it was just for that moment, for that particular thing, in that particular post that I didn’t want empathy.
I have been taking in your empathy for some time, Alessa, and it means a lot to me ❤️
You have an amazing skill and talent, Alessa, in expressing empathy and thoughtfulness. You are one of a kind. Thank you so very much for your kind words!!! 🙏💐💛🌟🫶✨🌸
Anita
June 22, 2025 at 7:24 pm in reply to: Should I Forget about him, or was he the one that got away? #447041anitaParticipantMy goodness, J/ Emma- if this is you in the photo, then you look so very, very pretty- I wish I had blond hair and (what looks like) blue eyes 💙💫
I read only a part of your message to Philip (I will read the whole message more attentively tomorrow), but the first thought that came to my mind this evening was that it’d be a good idea if you sent it (the part that I read) to him, abbreviated though.. fewer words, but just as much emotion.
I’ll be back to you Mon morning (it’s Sun evening here).
Anita
anitaParticipantJournaling—just typing what’s on my mind- trigger Warning..:
It’s the 10th day of the Israel–Iran war, and not even a full day since the U.S. launched its attack on Iran. That’s the big picture. But within it, four members of my family whom I deeply care about, two I’ve never met—live under the shadow of the next missile, caught in a deadly game of Russian roulette. Who is hit, who is spared—it comes down to chance. Nothing more.
Then there’s the smaller, more personal picture: my 85-year-old mother, over there—frail, stooped, and unwell—could die at any moment. If not from a missile, then from the slow, ongoing erosion of her body.
And still, some tiny part of me— almost extinguished, but not quite—still longs to reach her. To reach her heart. To make her SEE me, HEAR me, Notice me.
Growing in—not up, but inward, shrinking into myself—I was a non-entity in the space between my mother and I. She was Everything, and I was Nothing. There was simply no room for me, so I was alive only, mostly, in the biological sense.
And now—she’s dying.
So yes, part of me wants to be there. To hold her, to let her know…
But she can’t. She never could see me, hear me, or notice my love for her.
It was always like I wasn’t there all those years and decades- nothing but a ghost.
It was only a dream that she might one day see me as more than a two-dimensional item: something to be fed, clothed, and taken to the doctor when burning with fever.
It wasn’t her fault. She simply couldn’t.
And I know, without a doubt, that she still can’t—maybe even less so now, in her frailty and decline.
Yet I believe there’s a part of her, locked deep within, that still longs for life. And for love. I can’t reach that part. I never could.
So I reach toward people here, in these forums, hoping—maybe, just maybe—I can reach someone.
And in that reaching, I am finding myself. No longer an object, but a three-dimensional being. A person. A human.
I am settling into a 3D existence. Giving space to my feelings. Exhaling the breath I’ve held in for far too long.
Decades of waiting to exhale.
Sitting here on this quiet Sunday late morning, almost noon, birds in the background- not loud, but still alive- I take it one day at a time, one hour at a time, because truly this is all I have, and this is all anyone has. The “happily ever after” is nothing but a fairytale- an imagining of youth.
Five minutes ago, some part of the Iranian regime has announced it’s getting ready for another wave of attack.. Sunday, 9:35 PM in Israel, 10:35 PM in Iran, one minute, one hour at a time.
And back to my mother-myself, where it all began for me: it’s the story of trying to reach the unreachable. In the core of me is that hopeless pursuit- to reach her, and in so doing, to get her to notice me and.. in so doing, to give myself the right to exist, the legitimacy to exist- as a 3-D creature, an animal, a person, a human being.. not a 2-D item.
Sunday, noon-time (12 pm) here, Sunday 10 pm in Israel, Sunday 11 pm in Iran.. next missile…?
Anita
anitaParticipantDear Alessa:
Thank you for your thoughtful message—I really appreciate how open and caring you are in the way you communicate.
I think I may have accidentally given the wrong impression in something I wrote to Peter. I mentioned to him that I appreciated the way he offered invitations instead of expectations—but that wasn’t meant as a contrast to how you speak with me. I’ve genuinely found your words warm, empathetic, and thoughtful. I feel that you come from a place of kindness, not instruction—and I really appreciate that.
Your British sense of care absolutely comes through, and it feels sincere and grounding. So please don’t worry—you haven’t done anything wrong at all. I’m grateful for your presence and the steady kindness you bring, and I do wish for connecting more 🫂🌷🌱
With warmth and appreciation, Anita ❤️
anitaParticipantDear Laven:
I want to add: I can feel how much pain you’re carrying—emotionally, physically, and spiritually. You’ve been showing up day after day, despite exhaustion, grief, and the kind of loneliness that most people couldn’t bear for long. I want you to know I’ve seen your effort, your reflection, and your honesty. They matter.
What you’re living through sounds so heavy, and there is no shame in needing more support than any one person—like me, a stranger online—can give. You deserve to feel heard by someone whose whole job is to help you. You deserve to have space that is just for you.
It’s okay to reach out to a mental health professional because you’ve been doing the work of survival for a long time, all on your own —and you shouldn’t have to do it alone anymore.
If you’d ever like help finding someone to talk to—or even just want someone to help you take that first step—I’ll be here. And if you’re not ready for that yet, I’ll still be here.
You matter, Laven. You’re not just a carer or a cleaner or a burden—you are a whole person who deserves peace and support too.
With warmth, Anita
anitaParticipantHow are you, Honesty?
June 22, 2025 at 7:59 am in reply to: Should I Forget about him, or was he the one that got away? #447020anitaParticipantDear J:
You’re so welcome—and thank you for your kind words. I truly don’t mind taking the time for you.
About your question: Should you write him a letter, even though he blocked you?
Since he asked for space—and that boundary has been crossed once before—sending another message now might only confirm his fear that emotional closeness means pressure or overwhelm. I know that’s not what you’re trying to do, but it could still feel that way to him.
That said, I do believe that writing a letter could be really healing—just not to send. The desire to explain yourself is real, and your thoughts deserve to be expressed. Writing them down can bring relief, clarity, and peace.
So write the letter. Say everything that still lives in your heart—what hurt, what you wish he understood, what never found its place in the conversation. Let it be your way of releasing what’s unspoken. A letter like that doesn’t change the past, but it can open space inside you for softness and breath.
And yes—I’d be honored to help you write a letter to yourself, too. You don’t owe me anything in return. Your trust is more than enough. 🕊️
I’m here when you’re ready.
Anita
anitaParticipantDear Omyk:
You’re welcome—and thank you for your kind words.
Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 7:7–9: “Now to the unmarried and the widows I say: It is good for them to stay unmarried, as I do. But if they cannot control themselves, they should marry, for it is better to marry than to burn with passion.”
And in 1 Corinthians 9:27: “But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified.”
Galatians 5:16: “Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.”
You wrote: “There is an internal battle… I cannot agree that trying to stop something that emerges from within is harmful.”- That same battle was written about 2,000 years ago. You’re not alone in it— Maybe part of the grace in faith is knowing that even our private battles have ancient echoes.
💫 Anita
anitaParticipant❤️ back to you, Alessa!
Anita
anitaParticipantWelcome back from the trip, Tom! I’ll be here during the 6-8 weeks of waiting, anytime you want to talk .
💛 Anita
anitaParticipantDear Laven:
I read your post. I think you’re an intelligent and talented writer. I just wish life were kinder to you—easier, simpler, more peaceful. If there’s ever something specific you’d like my thoughts on, I’d be happy to offer them.
💛 Anita
June 21, 2025 at 10:08 am in reply to: Should I Forget about him, or was he the one that got away? #447009anitaParticipantDear J:
You are thoughtful, creative, and kind young woman, J. You see things deeply and feel things deeply too. You’ve grown up with more traditional values, but inside, there’s a part of you that also wants to explore, dream, and connect on a deeper emotional level. This can make it hard to find someone who matches both sides of who you are. You sometimes doubt yourself when you feel like you don’t fit others’ expectations. But what makes you special is how carefully you try to understand others—including people who confuse or hurt you. And you’re not only looking for love—you’re looking for someone who will understand your mind, your heart, and your way of seeing the world.
About A- he is very guarded with his feelings. He was raised in a strict family where emotions were seen as weakness, so he learned to hide what he feels by acting tough or logical. He seems sharp, maybe even harsh at times, but it may be because he never learned how to feel safe being soft. He cares about control and honesty, but doesn’t always know how to show kindness in a gentle way. Still, there are signs that he wants connection—he just doesn’t know how to ask for it. He might be afraid of being hurt, or afraid that if he shows feelings, others will see him as weak. Under his protective shell, though, he could still be someone who hopes to be loved.
You asked, “Why would he have felt the need to stuff away feelings, or not feel them? Do you really think that could be his reason?”- Yes, that could very well be the reason. You said that A. grew up with a strict father, a fierce mother, and in a family where men were not allowed to cry or be vulnerable. In a home like that, showing feelings could be seen as weak or even dangerous. So he likely learned to hide his emotions—not because he wanted to, but because he had to.
And when someone grows up like that, their emotions don’t disappear. They just come out differently—like anger, frustration, or becoming distant. Those reactions were probably more “allowed” in his world than sadness or fear.
“Do you really think he saw my interest in imagination as something vulnerable?”- Yes, I really do. A. seemed to value directness, strength, and control. So your love of dreams, stories, and soft emotions may have felt strange to him—but also interesting. People who hide their own feelings sometimes find that kind of tenderness both scary and beautiful.
Your softness may have reminded him of the part of himself he had to hide when he was young. That part of him might still be there, buried. So being around your imagination could have touched something deep inside him—something he didn’t quite understand, but couldn’t ignore either.
That’s why, when you asked him not to criticize the castle, and he said he “might not be able to”—maybe it wasn’t really about the castle. Maybe the beauty and wonder of it made him feel something he wasn’t used to feeling. And that made him a little uncomfortable.
So yes—your softness and imagination might have meant more to him than he ever said out loud.
You also asked, “Why didn’t I dare more? Why did I run again?”- because you were trying to protect yourself—your safety, your self-worth, your hope. In your past, love came with judgment, or made you feel like you weren’t enough, or you had to give up important parts of yourself. So when this connection with A started to feel real—but also uncertain or intense—your first instinct wasn’t to move closer. It was to protect your heart.
J, you don’t need to punish yourself for how things ended. You need compassion—for the version of you that showed up the best she could, and for the part that was scared.
If you’d like, I can help you write to that part of yourself—the one who got scared and ran. That kind of letter can be healing. Let me know.
“I think, we felt something. Maybe something less obvious to the outside world. Maybe recognized something in each other”- That less-obvious something might have been an emotional connection that didn’t show up on the surface—not shared interests or matching personalities, but a quiet recognition of hidden parts of yourselves. Maybe you saw a softness in him that he tried to hide. And maybe he saw the quiet strength in you—the same strength I see. 🕊️
Anita
anitaParticipantDear Omyk:
Your words—“I feel like I’m not really being myself… a very human part of me still feels capable of loving and being loved…”—hold so much quiet truth. There is something deeply human, and deeply alive, in what you’re sharing.
When longing becomes a burden, it’s not because the desire itself is wrong—it’s because some part of you has learned that it’s safer not to want. That kind of silence takes energy. “It takes a lot of energy to deny these feelings,” you wrote. And yes, it does. Because longing doesn’t disappear just because we try to be content. It waits. It flickers behind the eyes. It hums like warmth beneath cold floors.
You are not wrong for wishing. You are not broken for wanting. And that longing? It’s just your soul trying to remember itself.
Here’s something to try, if it feels right: let yourself imagine—and write freely—about the kind of relationship that would allow your whole self to be present. The parts that feel alive. The parts that ache. The parts that know the difference between peace and suppression.
What would it feel like to be in that space with someone?
This isn’t for problem-solving. Not to force clarity. Just to give your longing somewhere soft to land.
You don’t have to move toward it. You don’t have to act. You just get to ask: “What might it feel like to be fully myself in the company of another heart?”
With care, Anita 🕊️
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Though I run this site, it is not mine. It's ours. It's not about me. It's about us. Your stories and your wisdom are just as meaningful as mine. 