Falling in Love with Potential

Gaslighting and emotional invalidation have become so common in some relationships that many people do not recognize what is happening until they are emotionally exhausted. People often think a marriage ends the day divorce papers are filed, but the truth is many relationships end long before that. Sometimes a person has already emotionally disconnected after years of feeling unseen, unheard, unsupported, or constantly made to question their own reality.

I know all too well what that looks like.

My truth was working tirelessly day after day going to work, building businesses in every way I knew how, being a wife, attending school, caring for children, maintaining a household, and carrying responsibilities that never seemed to end, all while feeling like there was no one truly caring for me. I poured into everyone else while silently running on empty, yet I was still expected to perform day in and day out as if exhaustion, loneliness, and emotional depletion did not exist.

And despite it all, I still held onto the dream.

Since I was a child, I believed greatness awaited me. I believed my life was meant for more than survival. More than simply carrying the weight of everyone else while slowly disappearing myself.

But over time, there were moments when it felt like the very people around me were comfortable with me remaining mentally, physically, and financially burdened. As if survival mode had become normal. As if complacency was being served daily and growth, healing, or elevation somehow became threatening.

That kind of environment creates resentment over time.

Not because you hate the people around you, but because somewhere along the way you realize you were sacrificing pieces of yourself just to keep everything functioning. You begin mourning the version of yourself that was constantly postponed while everyone else's needs came first.

One of the hardest truths I had to face was realizing that my desire for everyone around me to succeed had become unhealthy for me.

While attending my own classes, working, raising children, managing a household, and trying to build something greater for myself, I slowly began carrying the responsibilities of another grown adult's future too.

I remember taking a virtual public speaking course for my husband at the time. I attended the classes, completed the assignments, wrote the speech, and did everything I could with the hope that it would help push him toward something greater. The only thing left for him to do was show up and deliver the speech.

Do you think he went?

No.

He simply "didn't feel like it."

And that moment became one of many.

Many moments where I gave everything I had trying to help someone reach goals they did not truly want for themselves.

That is what being unhealed can look like sometimes—overextending yourself to the point where you are trying to accomplish another adult's purpose while abandoning your own in the process.

You tell yourself you are being supportive.

You tell yourself love means helping.

But eventually you realize there is a difference between support and self-sacrifice.

And to be honest, I now understand that this was a serious boundary issue on my part.

Maybe what I was really trying to do was save and support someone the way I always wished someone had saved and supported me.

Maybe I was trying to give another person what I had spent so much of my own life longing for—encouragement, stability, accountability, belief, and support.

I wanted my best friend to be great with me. I wanted to feel like I could finally step back from leadership and trust that someone else would step forward.

But the truth is, those choices were never mine to make.

My only choice was deciding whether the life they desired aligned with the life I desired for myself.

The desire to heal, grow, change, and better yourself has to come from within. It cannot be imposed, negotiated, or carried by someone else.

I cannot want more for someone than they want for themselves and then become frustrated that we are not in alignment.

They never consented to change.

And I had to own that.

I had to accept that I was investing energy into a future I envisioned rather than fully accepting the reality of what was standing in front of me.

You cannot make someone a dreamer.

You cannot make someone ambitious.

You cannot make someone disciplined.

Those qualities have to be cultivated from within by a person who genuinely desires them.

I had to accept that while my intentions may have been rooted in love, support without boundaries can become control, and helping can become overfunctioning when the other person has not chosen the same path.

No one should be forced to pursue a life they do not want.

And if our goals, values, and visions for the future did not align, I needed to be strong enough to make that choice for myself instead of waiting for them to make it for me.

That was my responsibility.

Not changing them.

Not convincing them.

Not carrying them.

That is not love.

That is dysfunction.

Simply accepting what was, honoring my own needs, and having the courage to walk away from what no longer aligned.

Some of the hardest healing comes when you stop trying to save others and finally begin saving yourself.

One of the greatest lessons was realizing that different does not always mean wrong.

For years, I viewed our differences as problems that needed to be fixed. I thought if I could just help enough, encourage enough, or push enough, eventually we would arrive at the same destination.

But not everyone wants the same things.

Not everyone defines success the same way.

Not everyone is willing to make the same sacrifices for the life they desire.

And that does not make them bad people.

It simply means they are on a different path.

My mistake was believing that love required us to want the same things. What I know now is that love sometimes means accepting people exactly as they are and then deciding whether that reality aligns with the life you are trying to build.

The truth is, I spent years falling in love with potential.

Potential is a dangerous thing because it asks you to invest in who someone could become rather than accepting who they are choosing to be today.

And while potential can be beautiful, it is not a foundation for a healthy relationship.

Participation is.

Effort is.

Accountability is.

Consistency is.

Shared vision is.

Today, I no longer fall in love with potential.

I pay attention to participation.

I pay attention to effort.

I pay attention to whether someone's actions align with their words.

Because love is not built on who someone might become someday.

Love is built on who they consistently choose to be.

And in this lesson, I give thanks.

Because the experience showed me everything I never desired while also bringing clarity to everything I do desire.

It taught me what alignment feels like—and what it doesn't.

It taught me that I do not have to shrink my dreams, lower my standards, suppress my ambition, or apologize for my desire to love deeply and support wholeheartedly.

There is nothing wrong with being nurturing.

There is nothing wrong with being supportive.

There is nothing wrong with believing in people.

The lesson was not to stop loving.

The lesson was to direct that love toward people who are actively participating in their own growth.

People who want the support.

People who welcome accountability.

People who are doing the work alongside you.

I learned that support is most powerful when it is received, appreciated, and matched with effort.

You do not have to dim your light to make others comfortable.

You do not have to make your dreams smaller because someone else is afraid to dream.

You do not have to abandon your vision because someone else lacks one.

The right people will not be intimidated by your growth.

They will be inspired by it.

The right people will not resent your support.

They will value it.

And the right relationships will never require you to choose between loving others and honoring yourself.

For that lesson, I am grateful.

Because what once felt like heartbreak became clarity.

And that clarity brought me back to myself.