Love Broke the Curse

I had a dream last night that woke me out of my sleep.

It was about my last relationship and how it made me feel. I didn’t expect to dream about it—it just showed up, vivid and real, almost like a memory. And the realization that came from it was this:

Over the course of our lives, we go through heartbreak, loss, disappointment, and confusion. What I felt in that dream was the version of what could have been—what I wished I had felt in that relationship.

Let that sit with you for a second.

What if your last relationship didn’t fail, but instead revealed what you truly want to feel?

Looking back, every single relationship I’ve been in was both a mirror and a message. They reflected parts of me I didn’t want to deal with, and revealed lessons the universe was gently (sometimes loudly) trying to teach me. Lessons meant to help me face my trauma and heal.

So I’ll ask you: 

What unresolved pain have you been avoiding that your last relationship may have been trying to tell you? 

Yes—all of this came from a dream. 

As a vivid dreamer, I’ve learned that my dreams aren’t just stories stitched together by my subconscious. They’re messages—realizations I wasn’t ready to receive while awake. It’s almost like my soul whispers the truth to me while I’m asleep, burying gems in my subconscious until I’m ready to unearth them.

And last night, I was ready.

So why am I sharing this with you? 

Because love saved me.

What I understand now, as a grown woman, is that I haven’t always received love in its purest form. Like many of us, I was handed a counterfeit version—one that looked a lot like control. I didn’t recognize it at the time. But now I see it clearly. The truth is, I didn’t fully receive love—not the kind that heals and frees—until I gave it to myself.

That’s when everything shifted.

As women, we’re gifted with an emotional intelligence that’s deeply intuitive—yet often overlooked. I spent years detached from my feelings. Not because I didn’t have them, but because detachment was my defense. A shield against the heartbreak and emotional chaos I experienced growing up.

I didn’t realize that at the time. But in my quiet moments—away from the noise and the limelight—I started to reflect. And I saw myself clearly: a woman who had been emotionally disconnected for much of her life, because it was safer that way.

Here’s what changed everything: 

I asked myself, “How does the word ‘love’ make me feel?” 

There was a time it didn’t mean much to me. Why? Because I wasn’t truly receiving it.

Now, the word love means everything, because I started giving it to myself.

What I know now is that the way we give love is a reflection of what we believe love is. Many of the unhealthy patterns I carried—avoidance, obsession, control—weren’t flaws. They were responses. Survival tactics rooted in the absence of love I needed as a child.

This isn’t about blame—it’s about understanding. 

We learn how to love by what we’re taught early on.

So, how did love save me if I didn’t really know what love was to begin with?

I tapped back into my feelings—and they led me home.

As women, we’re often told we’re “too emotional,” when in fact, that emotional awareness is our compass. It’s what warns us of danger. It’s what calls us toward safety. In my healing journey, I realized I’d spent most of my life feeling unsafe, using my intelligence and achievements as armor to avoid vulnerability. 

Underneath all that was a scared little girl afraid to love people who might leave. I didn’t know it then, but I know it now. 

And now that I’ve given myself the love I always deserved, I feel again. 

Fully. 

Freely.

Real love doesn’t force. 

It protects. 

It nurtures. 

It grounds. 

It heals.

When I began offering those things to myself, my old wounds started closing. 

And they’re still healing.

Yes, I can confidently say that love broke the curse of abandonment in my life. 

And it’s still doing its job. 

Healing is rarely quick. 

It’s slow, sacred work—sometimes lifelong.

But here’s the beautiful truth: 

Love doesn’t belong to just one person. 

It has no name. 

It’s not bound by romance or status or title.

Like energy, love just is. 

It flows freely, waiting for anyone who’s ready to receive it—and who knows the difference between the real thing and the lie.