Dear Tessa,
I don’t know why I’m still here, and that question has been getting harder to ignore. Nothing is actively pulling me forward, but nothing has fully pushed me away either. I exist in this in-between space where I’m not fully satisfied, yet not fully gone. And I can’t tell if that’s patience or avoidance.
I tell myself there’s a reason I haven’t walked away. History. Attachment. The idea that leaving without a clear breaking point feels dramatic or unnecessary. I convince myself that staying is the more reasonable choice, even when staying feels stagnant.
What’s uncomfortable is how familiar this feels. I’m used to tolerating uncertainty. I’m used to waiting for clarity instead of creating it. Part of me believes that if I just give it more time, something will shift and make the decision easier. But time hasn’t changed much. It’s just made the discomfort quieter.
I don’t feel fully chosen, but I also don’t feel rejected. I’m present, but not deeply engaged. I show up enough to stay connected, but not enough to move anything forward. It’s like I’m hovering instead of participating.
I wonder if I’m afraid of the finality that comes with leaving. If walking away means admitting that this chapter is done and that whatever I hoped for isn’t coming. Staying lets me postpone that acceptance. It keeps possibility alive, even if that possibility isn’t grounded in reality.
I don’t want to stay somewhere just because it’s familiar. I don’t want to leave just to escape discomfort either. I want to understand why I’m still here and what that says about me.
So how do you know when staying is intentional versus when it’s just easier than letting go? And how do you find the courage to choose clarity when ambiguity feels safer?
Signed:
A guy stuck in the middle
Tessa’s Thoughts on the Subject
Staying without clarity often feels easier than leaving without certainty. Familiar discomfort can feel safer than unknown change. But comfort isn’t the same as alignment, and familiarity isn’t the same as fulfillment.
Many people remain in situations not because they’re working, but because they haven’t failed loudly. There’s no clear ending, so the connection lingers. Over time, that lingering becomes a habit rather than a choice.
It’s important to notice what staying requires of you. Are you growing, learning, and feeling more connected to yourself? Or are you waiting, managing uncertainty, and quieting your instincts? Those experiences tell you more than the absence of conflict ever will.
Clarity doesn’t always arrive on its own. Sometimes it’s created through decision. Choosing to stay should feel active and grounded, not passive and suspended. When staying feels like hovering, something is asking for your attention.
Letting go doesn’t mean you were wrong to stay as long as you did. It means you’re responding to what’s true now instead of what once was.
Tessa’s Straight-Up Perspective
Here’s the truth. Staying without intention is still a choice. If you don’t know why you’re still there, that’s the answer asking to be heard. You don’t need a dramatic ending to walk away. You just need the honesty to admit when something no longer aligns and the courage to choose forward instead of familiar.
Disclaimer:
Dear Tessa: Letters From Men is written advice-style to explore emotional dynamics and common blind spots from a male perspective. It’s meant to offer clarity and reflection, not professional guidance or justification. You know your situation best.