We've all heard the advice about letting go of relationships that don't serve us. The toxic ones, the ones that drain us, the ones where the red flags are obvious. We talk about how some relationships are seasons, like leaves that fall, while others are branches, and the special ones are roots that stay forever.
But what happens when you need to let go of a relationship that's close to your heart? One you thought was a root? One where you believed this was your person, your forever connection, whether friend, romantic partner, or chosen family?
Sometimes an event occurs that makes you step back. Maybe you were hurt by them, or they were hurt by you. At first, you move through the predictable stages: you feel wronged, you process the pain. Then you begin to see how you may have contributed to the hurt, and the urge to reach out becomes almost overwhelming. This is usually where most people reconnect.
But what if you took a little more time? What if you really looked not just at the incident, but at the patterns underneath it?
Did the cycle created within this relationship actually serve either one of you?
What if the relationship had gotten stuck in a loop that didn't serve either of you in any healthy way? What if it had become entangled in constant venting, in negative focus, without you even realizing it? Sometimes we mistake intensity for intimacy, or familiarity for fulfillment.
The more time you take, the more you begin to create other routines that replace the ones you had. And then you notice something unexpected: the pressure lifts. The need to carry the weight of those patterns releases. You notice the peace you now have.
And if you're paying attention, you might notice they have this peace too.
In that moment, there's a bittersweet freedom, knowing you both now have the space, the breathing room, the quiet that you both needed but couldn't find together. There's still sadness for the loss, and you move through that grief. But the peace you both now have is something you'd lost along the way, perhaps without even knowing it.
Knowing you're both moving in ways meant for you, growing in the directions you were meant to grow, brings a softness to the release. It eases the healing process of having to say goodbye.
Even relationships that seem good are not always healthy. Sometimes the ones you think are meant to be there are only meant to be for a season.
When reviewing what's not working in your life, you must be willing to examine even what appears to be working. To do this, you cannot be blind. You must be discerning, objective, able to step back from the situation enough to get a clear view. Only then can you know if it's truly serving you both, or if it's time to say a peaceful "it's time to love you from afar."
It's better to recognize this before everything crashes and burns. Better to see it before you spend more years trying to release chaos that came from things you were blind to, patterns that never served either of you.
Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is let go not in anger, not in bitterness, but in recognition that you both deserve relationships that truly nourish you. That peace matters more than presence. That growing apart isn't always failure; sometimes it's the very thing that allows you both to grow at all.
Not all endings are tragedies. Some are simply completions, the natural conclusion of something that served its purpose beautifully, even if that purpose was temporary.
If you're navigating the grief of releasing a close relationship, understanding cumulative grief can help you process these layered losses. Other posts that may be helpful in this time: