If only

Sometimes I sit in stillness and trace back the steps that led me here—not just the external ones, but the emotional ones, the mental ones. The versions of me that once made decisions out of fear, confusion, or pain. And often, I wonder: What if I had matured earlier? What if I had seen things more clearly before life had to teach me the hard way?

If only I had understood my worth before letting others define it.

If only I had seen red flags as warnings instead of invitations to fix someone.

If only I had known that love should feel safe, not like a battlefield where my heart is the casualty.

I would’ve spared myself so many traumas. So many quiet heartbreaks that no one saw. So many nights questioning if I was enough—or too much.

I used to think pain was just part of the process. That maybe the chaos meant I was feeling something real. That loss was just what happened when you loved deeply. But now, I see things differently. Now, with growth, I understand that peace is not boring. That silence doesn’t mean neglect. That love doesn’t have to hurt.

The truth is: I didn’t know better. I didn’t have the tools. I didn’t have the insight or emotional regulation or self-awareness. And maybe that’s part of being human—learning through fire, stumbling toward wisdom.

But I can’t lie: it aches sometimes. To look back and see how many times I broke my own heart trying to survive. To realize how much I lost—time, innocence, pieces of myself—because I wasn’t ready to protect what mattered.

Yet here I am.

A little older. A lot wiser. And far more gentle with myself.

I no longer shame the version of me who didn’t know better. I honor them—for trying, for enduring, for holding on even in confusion.

Still, if I could go back, I’d wrap my arms around that younger version of me and whisper, “You don’t have to prove yourself to be loved. You don’t have to burn to keep others warm.”

But since I can’t go back, I move forward—with more clarity, more boundaries, and more peace.

To anyone reading this and relating: be kind to yourself. Maturity comes when it comes. What matters is what we do with it once it arrives.

And now that I know better, I promise—I will never betray myself like that again.