Dear Tessa,
I keep trying to understand what I’m actually holding onto. Sometimes it feels like love. Other times, it feels like hope dressed up as love. I can feel connected, invested, emotionally tied, but I can’t tell if that’s because of what is or because of what I believe could be.
There are moments that feel real and grounding. Times when I feel close, understood, and emotionally present. Those moments make me believe this is love. But then there are gaps. Long stretches of uncertainty, inconsistency, or unmet needs that leave me questioning whether I’m loving a person or an idea of who they might become.
I catch myself filling in the blanks. I imagine how good this could be if certain things changed, if effort became more consistent, if communication deepened, if timing aligned. I tell myself that growth takes time, that people aren’t perfect, that love isn’t always easy. And while some of that is true, I don’t know where patience ends and projection begins.
What scares me is realizing how much energy I’ve invested in the future version of this connection. I don’t want to admit that I might be more attached to potential than reality. That feels foolish, like I should know better by now. But hope can be convincing, especially when there are just enough good moments to keep it alive.
I don’t want to confuse love with waiting. I don’t want to mistake emotional investment for emotional safety. I want to be honest about what I’m experiencing without invalidating my feelings or ignoring my intuition. I just don’t know how to tell which parts of this are real and which parts are wishful thinking.
So how do you know when you’re loving someone as they are versus loving who you believe they could be? And how do you let go of potential without feeling like you’re giving up on something meaningful?
Signed:
A woman trying to see clearly
Tessa’s Thoughts on the Subject
Love and potential can feel very similar, especially when you’re emotionally invested. Both create attachment. Both invite hope. But there’s an important difference. Love feels grounded in the present. Potential lives in the future. Love responds to who someone is now. Potential asks you to wait for who they might become.
When you’re connected to potential, you often find yourself explaining away gaps instead of experiencing consistency. You stay engaged because you believe effort, time, or circumstances will unlock the version of the relationship you’re imagining. That hope can feel noble, but it can also quietly keep you in limbo.
It’s also common to bond with potential when you see the best in people. You recognize capacity, not just behavior. But capacity isn’t the same as willingness. Someone can have the ability to show up differently and still choose not to. Love doesn’t require you to translate intention into action on someone else’s behalf.
One of the clearest ways to tell the difference is to ask yourself how you feel most of the time. Love, even when imperfect, brings a sense of emotional safety and steadiness. Potential often comes with anxiety, waiting, and self-questioning. If you’re consistently asking yourself where you stand, that’s information.
You’re not wrong for believing in what could be. Hope is human. But love doesn’t require you to suspend your needs while waiting for change. It meets you in the present and grows with you, not just in theory but in practice.
Letting go of potential can feel like letting go of a dream. But holding onto it too tightly can keep you from fully experiencing the kind of love that doesn’t require imagining a different version of reality.
Tessa’s Straight-Up Perspective
Here’s the truth. Love is what shows up consistently, not what you have to imagine into existence. Potential can be exciting, but it’s not something you can build a stable connection on by yourself. You’re allowed to want love that exists in the present, not just in possibility. Letting go of potential isn’t giving up. It’s choosing clarity over hope that keeps you waiting.
Disclaimer:
Dear Tessa is written woman-to-woman — honest, imperfect, and human. It’s meant to offer comfort, clarity, and perspective, not professional guidance. You know your life best.
