When Your Heart Believes Everyone Leaves: A Letter for the Wounded Part of You

Some core beliefs feel like they were written into us with permanent ink.

One of the hardest?

“Everyone leaves.”

Maybe you’ve felt it after abandonment, betrayal, emotional neglect, or the quiet disconnection that no one ever acknowledged but you still carry in your nervous system.

This belief doesn’t come out of nowhere—it’s learned. It’s protective. It’s trying to keep you from being hurt again.

But what once protected you may now be keeping you isolated, anxious, and on edge in relationships.

If you’ve ever found yourself pulling away before someone else can…

If you brace for endings even in the middle of good things…

If you fear being “too much,” so you become smaller, quieter, or more agreeable just to keep people around…

This letter is for you.

Read it when you’re in doubt. When your heart forgets that love doesn’t always mean loss.

Let it be a reminder that healing is possible—and that not everyone leaves.

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Dear You,

I know this belief runs deep. That no matter how close someone gets, a part of you holds your breath—waiting for the goodbye.

You’ve learned to scan for signs of distance, for footsteps fading, for doors slowly closing behind people you love.

It makes sense.

You might not remember when it started, or maybe you remember too clearly—how it felt to be left, overlooked, forgotten, or replaced. You weren’t born believing everyone leaves. That belief was built out of pain. Out of pattern. Out of protection.

But I want you to hear this:

Not everyone leaves. (say it slower) Not everyone leaves.

Some people stay.

Some people circle back.

And most importantly—you’re still here.

You’ve been the one who stayed through every hard thing you’ve ever faced. You’ve held yourself when others couldn’t. You’ve stitched yourself back together more times than anyone knows.

That’s not weakness. That’s resilience.

So when that old story creeps in again—whispering that you’re too much, too hard to love, or destined to be abandoned—pause.

Breathe.

Put your hand on your heart. And remember: this is just the echo of an old wound, not a prophecy.

You are not cursed.

You are not broken.

You are learning how to trust again.

You are allowed to be loved without being left.

And if someone does leave, it says more about their capacity than your worth.

You are not unlovable just because someone couldn’t stay.

You are worthy of people who choose you with their whole heart.

People who make space for your fears and don’t run from your tenderness.

People who stay—not perfectly, but consistently.

And until then, you have you.

And I promise—that’s not nothing.

With gentleness and truth,

A Future Version of You Who Knows You’re Worth Staying For