Hallowbelle

[hallowbelle]

It's strange how you pray for God to guide you, and when He answers, it breaks your heart.

I dared God I gave Him a timeframe. I begged: "Show me if he’s my person or not."

God answered. He told me to be patient. I waited. I prayed. I hoped. I clung to every tiny sign that maybe, just maybe, it was him.

But as the days passed, and the deadline I set approached, I saw the truth so clearly:

He is not my person.

I realized God wasn't trying to give him to me — He was trying to save me from holding on to what was never meant to be mine.

And still, it hurts.

I'm not just sad for the relationship I'm sad for the dreams, the hope, the story I wanted so badly to live.

But even in my sadness, I trust Him.

I trust the "no" just as much as I would have trusted the "yes."

Because what God keeps from you is just as much His mercy as what He gives to you.

[hallowbelle]

Sometimes, you’re so afraid of losing the bond you had with someone, you hold on tightly to what was. But then, as you slowly let go, you find a new kind of connection unexpected, quieter, healthier. And somehow, it’s exactly what you needed all along. You realize the version of the relationship you once craved doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t want it back. What you have now feels lighter, truer, and more beautiful in its simplicity. It’s confusing… but also deeply freeing.

[hallowbelle]

It's heartbreaking how someone who once felt like your soulmate can become a stranger overnight.

The silence, the distance it all hits harder when the connection used to feel unbreakable. Healing takes time, but tonight… it just hurts.

[hallowbelle]

Owning your mistakes and your choices doesn’t make the future easier.

I know now it was all my choice, and I’ve accepted that. But now, I find myself asking: Where do I go from here? How do I make choices that aren’t just “right” for everyone else but right for me and my daughter?

Last night, I started reading The Courage to Be Disliked. One line stood out:

“The world is very simple. Your past is past let it go. From now on, it’s up to you to make your world easy and happy.”

I understand the philosophy. It makes sense. But knowing it and living it are two very different things.

So, I’m starting here with honesty, not a perfect plan.

I’m learning to define what happiness looks like for me not based on others’ opinions, just what feels right in my heart.

I’m trying to forgive myself every day if I have to.

I’m choosing small steps forward, even if they’re shaky.

And I’m letting my daughter inspire me, not define me. I want her to see what courage really looks like: not loud, not always sure but real.

If you’re also standing at a crossroads, unsure where to start maybe start here, with me.

We don’t need to have it all figured out. We just need to take the next honest step.

[hallowbelle]

Woke up this morning with a heavy truth: everything I went through was a result of my choices. God always gave me the freedom to choose, and I chose every road, every pain, every lesson. It wasn’t God, and it wasn’t anyone else.

I am where I am today because of the decisions I made. I’m not a victim. No one else is responsible for my suffering or my pain. I am the one who allowed it, who stayed, who said yes when I should’ve said no.

And while that truth stings, it also sets me free. Because if I had the power to choose back then, I have the power to choose differently now.

[hallowbelle]

I Cried Every Day for a Year

This past year broke me in ways I can’t fully explain.

I cried almost every single day silently in the mornings, in the middle of the night, or in between pretending I was okay.

There were moments I didn’t recognize myself… moments I wondered if I’d ever feel joy again.

And then something changed. And i don't know what but this morning, I woke up and didn’t cry.

I didn’t feel heavy.

I didn’t feel broken.

I felt… okay. Maybe even a little good.

And that scared me.

Because when you’ve lived in pain for so long, peace doesn’t feel safe.

Joy feels like a trick.

Happiness feels like something that can be taken away at any second.

But maybe… just maybe… this is the beginning of something new.

Maybe healing starts quietly not in grand moments, but in soft mornings like this one.

I’m learning to let the good in, even when it scares me.

Even when my first instinct is to run back to the familiar sadness.

Today, I’m choosing to stay with the good just for a little while longer.

That’s where I’m at. And if you’re somewhere in this too I see you.