Hi Anita,

I just wanted to thank you for this response. Your words hit something deep that I’ve been struggling to name for weeks. The way you described the difference between desire and capacity – and the way unresolved fear can make love feel dangerous – was like turning on a light in a room I’d been sitting in for too long.

You’re right, I wasn’t looking to save her. I just wanted to meet her in the middle, and offer something steady, something real. The connection we shared in New York was that—quiet, grounded, emotionally reciprocal – and even a month prior to NY when we 1st met. That’s what made the abrupt shift in Spain so disorienting. It wasn’t just that she changed; it was that she erased the witness of who she was becoming.

I’m not angry anymore. I was. But now I think I’m just sad. I’ve come to realize that sometimes love shows up to mirror, not to stay, and if that’s what this was, I want to honor it without bitterness.

That said, I also know I can’t carry both people’s healing. She’ll have to come to terms with whatever scared her off. I can’t do that part for her. But I do hope she does.

Thank you again for holding space in such a thoughtful way. It means more than you know.

Warmly,

Ty

Thank you so much for your thoughtful reply. What you shared about your own experience really helped me reframe the intensity of what she might have gone through. I hadn’t fully grasped just how physically traumatic something like that could be, and I’m so sorry you had to endure that level of pain without proper care. It’s heartbreaking and far too common.

Looking back, I still believe there’s a deeper layer that was triggered in her. Whether it was medical trauma, emotional repression, or maybe both. It’s clear something cracked open and she didn’t know how to sit with it, let alone communicate through it. That doesn’t excuse the rewriting, the blame, or the emotional freezing, but it does help me make some human sense of it. I’ve read post-procedure, especially after two back-to-back cycles, it can be intense and almost like a mini post-partum depression that can last up to eight weeks.

When I first met her, I had no idea what industry she was in. I never judged it, but I did become concerned later – not because of the work itself, but because of some unresolved pain I sensed beneath the surface. I never pushed her to disclose anything she wasn’t ready to, but I often wonder if there’s more beneath it all that’s never been fully named or faced.

At the end of the day, I showed up with sincerity and tried to hold space, and I guess I just became some mirror she couldn’t look into.

Ty