This won’t feel good, and that’s how you’ll know it’s honest. Truth rarely arrives gently when it’s been ignored for a while. It disrupts comfort. It presses on denial. It asks you to let go of stories you’ve been using to survive something that already ended.
This won’t feel good because it asks you to stop hoping where evidence has already spoken. To stop giving the benefit of the doubt to patterns that haven’t changed. To admit that waiting hasn’t been patience, it’s been avoidance dressed up as loyalty.
You’re going to feel the sting when you realize you stayed longer than you should have. When you see how much energy you poured into something that never met you halfway. That discomfort isn’t punishment. It’s correction.
This won’t feel good because clarity often comes with grief. Grief for what you imagined. For what you wanted it to become. For the version of you who believed effort would eventually be enough. Letting go of that hurts, even when it’s necessary.
Growth doesn’t announce itself with relief. It usually shows up as resistance first. As tightness in your chest. As the urge to argue with what you already know. That’s not a sign you’re wrong. It’s a sign you’re close.
This won’t feel good, but it will feel true. And truth, once accepted, stops asking you to suffer for it repeatedly.
Final Thought: Discomfort Is the Doorway
If it hurts now, it’s because it’s saving you later.
Disclaimer
This isn’t meant to scare you or harden you. It’s meant to prepare you. Hard truths don’t arrive to harm you. They arrive to end a cycle you’ve outgrown, even if it aches on the way out.