The Pain In Love

As someone who truly believed that love could heal everything, I find this a difficult piece to write.

When I said love heals all, I guess I specifically meant my love. For most of my life, I believed that if I loved deeply enough, if I loved with every fiber of my being, I could heal what was broken. I could ease people's pain. I could save them. Maybe, in the process, I could save myself too.

But the truth is, love doesn't heal everything.

The ability to love wholeheartedly is a gift, but if you're not careful, it can be catastrophic.

For years, I believed it was my responsibility to love people back to wholeness. And when they weren't "fixed," I blamed myself. If my love couldn't heal them, then maybe there was something wrong with me.

I made it my mission to help everyone achieve their goals, follow their dreams, and become the best versions of themselves. Meanwhile, I was losing myself. I was becoming someone I didn't even recognize.

I spent so much time being everyone's cheerleader that I realized I often wanted their success more than they did.

Maybe part of that was because I never believed I could create the life I wanted for myself. I doubted my own ability to change, so I poured all of my energy into helping others change instead.

I became the loudest cheerleader anyone could have.

But eventually, I learned a painful truth: no matter how loudly I cheered, people would still make their own choices. Some would stay stuck. Some would repeat the same cycles. Some would walk away from opportunities I knew they were capable of taking.

And so would I.

When you realize that, especially as someone who always had stars in her eyes, the world suddenly goes dark.

Every now and then, I'd get a brief spark of confidence. For a moment, I would believe in myself the same way I believed in everyone else. I'd think maybe I could do the things I encouraged others to do.

But the feeling would fade.

So I'd return to helping people because watching them succeed lit something inside me that words can hardly describe. It still does.

Maybe that's why I was drawn to photography. Maybe it's why I am suddenly finding a passion to learn so I can educate.

There is something incredibly beautiful about helping someone see themselves differently.

When I show a client a photograph, and they stop and ask, "Wait... is that really me?" something shifts. They begin seeing themselves through a new lens.

It saddens me to my core when I think about how many people spend years believing lies about themselves.

They tell themselves they were never enough, or that they were too much.

Being able to offer someone a new perspective, even for a moment, is one of the greatest blessings I've ever been given.

I love being the cheerleader.

I love being the person who reminds people of their strength.

I love being the one who shows up, day or night.

I love being the person who says, "You don't have to carry this alone."

Those are parts of myself I've learned to appreciate.

But I've also learned that every gift needs boundaries.

Loving people unconditionally is one thing.

Blaming yourself for their downfall is another.

Somewhere along the way, I started measuring my worth by the outcomes of other people's lives.

I think it started with my mom.

I loved her with everything I had. I spent years trying to do whatever my little hands and heart could do to make things better.

When she struggled with addiction, I internalized it.

Was I not doing enough?

Was I not loving her enough?

Why couldn't she get better?

Ten-year-old me wrote songs about those feelings long before I understood them.

Before I even knew what the world was, I was carrying the weight of it on my back.

I took on pain that wasn't mine.

Stress that wasn't mine.

Responsibilities that weren't mine.

Again and again, with people I loved deeply.

And eventually, I learned something:

Love is not enough to heal wounds that someone else must choose to heal.

Love is a feeling.

A beautiful one.

A powerful one.

Sometimes it consumes you so completely that it feels like you're on fire from the inside out.

But love alone is not enough.

And perhaps the hardest truth of all is that sometimes it never will be.

Love is a beginning.

You can love someone with your whole heart and still never see them again.

You can love someone and still have to let them go.

Then comes the difficult work of making peace with the place in your heart that will always miss them.

Because if you don't make peace with it, it will consume you.

Love isn't enough to save a marriage.

Love isn't enough to fix finances.

Love isn't enough to lose weight.

But love is a start.

After love comes action.

You can love financial freedom, but unless you change your habits, nothing changes.

You can say you love yourself exactly as you are, but if your goal is to become healthier, your love for yourself must be strong enough to support change.

You can love someone who is struggling, but they must choose their own healing.

Love can encourage.

Love can support.

Love can inspire.

But love cannot do the work for someone else.

If love alone could heal addiction, my mom would have been healed years ago.

No one has been loved and prayed for more fiercely than she has, especially by her mother.

Watching someone repeatedly find hope, glimpse change, and then fall back into a cycle that threatens their life is devastating.

It teaches you that some battles belong to the person fighting them.

No matter how much you love them.

No matter how badly you want it for them.

No matter how many sleepless nights you wait by the phone.

Still, despite everything, I refuse to stop believing in people.

I'd rather have too much faith than none at all.

The beautiful thing about having a heart that loves deeply is that when someone disappoints you, pushes you away, or lets you down, you still have love left to give.

The challenge is making sure that gift doesn't become the very thing that destroys you.

You cannot measure your worth by the outcome of someone else's life.

You cannot take responsibility for choices that were never yours to make.

You only have control over yourself.

So pour your energy into what you can actually be accountable for.

Your healing.

Your growth.

Your dreams.

Your life.

Just as others must choose their own healing, you must choose yours.

You have to become your own loudest cheerleader.

You have to believe in yourself with the same passion you've spent giving away to everyone else.

Love people deeply.

Believe in them.

Support them.

But don't confuse loving someone with saving them.

Love them where they are.

And most importantly, love yourself enough to create boundaries with the people who don't love you where you are.

At the end of the day, all that matters is that you're proud of how you've shown up; for yourself, for your values, and for the life you're creating.

We can love people.

We can encourage people.

We can walk beside people.

But we cannot live their lives for them.

The goal is to reach a place where, regardless of where they are on their journey, you are at peace with yours.

Never stop loving people.

But never let loving people become the reason you stop loving yourself.

Thank you for being here,

Kaitlyn