Learning to Let Go with Love: Healing My Father Wound and Reclaiming My Heart

For the past couple of years, I’ve wrestled with emotions that linger long after connections have ended. I find myself driving around town and catching glimpses—cars that remind me of people I once cared about deeply, or dreams that resurface the “what ifs.” These aren’t just random thoughts. They’re emotional echoes from relationships that once meant something… even if the closure I needed never came.

I’ve realized that I carry a deep emotional attachment, not just to people, but to potential. To the moments that could have been. To the things that were left unsaid. And lately, I’ve been trying to move forward—not from a place of anger or resentment—but from a place of grace. A place where I can say, “I love that they made me feel seen in that moment,” without needing to hold onto them.

But if I’m being honest, it’s not easy.

Part of my difficulty in letting go comes from something I’m just now beginning to unpack: my father wound. I didn’t grow up in the same home as my father. Our relationship was inconsistent. I remember seeing him mostly when I was in trouble, and while he gave gifts during holidays, emotional presence wasn’t something I could rely on. When I moved to his city years later, I hoped to rebuild something. But again, I was met with absence—until the day of his mother’s funeral, when I became his emotional punching bag instead of his daughter.

That moment shook something in me.

I’ve come to see how that dynamic has shaped the men I’ve attracted—emotionally unavailable, distracted, already committed to something (or someone) else. And here I am, an Aries Moon, longing for emotional security, longing to be held in spaces where I can express freely without judgment or guilt.

I’ve often felt that my big emotions are “too much”—that I’ve burdened people I cared about simply by being honest about my feelings. I regret some of the choices I made in love, especially when I acted from pain or loneliness instead of clarity. I’ve asked myself why I choose people who don’t choose me back in the same way. Why I settle for crumbs of connection when I deserve a feast of mutual love and emotional safety.

But I’m not writing this for pity. I’m writing this for healing.

Because even though I haven’t physically moved away from this city, I’m working on mentally and emotionally shifting into a new space. I’m learning that healing doesn’t have to be cold or cruel. It can be warm. It can be soft. It can look like remembering the good without clinging to it. It can look like apologizing to myself for not honoring my intuition sooner. It can be as simple as saying, “I forgive me.”

I don’t want to shame myself for loving deeply. That’s who I am. That’s part of my power.

But I also don’t want to romanticize potential anymore. I want reality. Presence. Emotional security. I want a partner who has the time, space, and willingness to build a life with me—not around me.

So where do I go from here?

I honor the love I gave. I extract the lessons. I forgive myself for the choices I made out of fear or longing. I give myself credit for growing—especially while building a business, especially while carrying this emotional weight. And most of all, I recommit to my own heart.

From this point forward, I’m not chasing closure. I’m creating peace. Not waiting for apologies. I’m speaking my truth to myself. Not obsessing over timelines. I’m trusting divine alignment.

And maybe I’ll still think about the past from time to time. But I’ll remember it with love, not longing.

Because I’m not stuck. I’m healing. And that is sacred.