These are thoughts I have now that I have been progressing through my own healing journey — a journey that never truly ends, but where clarity offers ongoing perspective.

Pain transforms us all. Life will change the people you love. They won’t remain the same as when you first met them or even throughout the years together, because none of us escapes the touch of loss, disappointment, or failure. What I now understand more than ever…if I can’t love someone through their messy phases, I risk missing out on the intimacy that only comes when the other person dares to let you see them at their most raw and vulnerable and vice versa.

But loving someone in their mess doesn’t mean sacrificing your own peace. It’s possible to support them with compassion without getting caught up in their chaos. It’s about mastering the delicate balance of proximity: close enough to witness, far enough to stay grounded. You don’t have to become a casualty of their chaos to show you care.

Messy seasons challenge not only those going through them but also those close to them. For me, the temptation is strong.. to fix, rescue, or bend myself into their storm, hoping to calm it. However, if someone isn’t ready to take responsibility for their pain or patterns, no amount of my intervention will change their course. In fact, I learned the hard way ..my efforts might even enable the very drama I was trying to ease. I can attest on multiple fronts.

My work continues to be …focus on restraint and clarity. To say: I see you, I love you, and I believe you’ll find your way. But I will not break myself to carry what belongs to you. That distinction is everything. Compassion without boundaries weakens both people in the relationship. However, compassion with boundaries becomes a steady presence, an offered hand, not a lifeline tied around one’s neck, which for me has been easier said than done.

There is another kind of heartbreak, though, I have experienced and want to share: when someone completely closes themselves off. When they keep their pain concealed, unwilling to risk vulnerability or face the truth of their own life. In those moments, you lose not only the chance to love them through their mess but also the deeper intimacy that comes from shared honesty. You are left standing on the outside, watching shadows move across a wall, knowing there is more but never being invited in.

How have I handled that kind of silence? With acceptance. With grief. With the understanding that intimacy requires two consenting hearts. You cannot force someone to show you their rawness, no matter how much you long to meet them there. Continuing to press and pry only creates more distance. Sometimes love is about learning to honor the space between you… to hold out the lantern of your presence at the edges, even if they never step closer.

The paradox of love is this: you cannot have depth without vulnerability, and you cannot create vulnerability for someone else. You can only offer safety, honesty, and presence, and “let them” decide if and when they are ready. They may never be prepared to put in the work, and that is fine with me.

In closing, I circle back to clarity: learning to love someone through their mess is about standing steady in my own wholeness while holding space for theirs. Sometimes that means walking beside them through the storm. Sometimes it means waiting quietly until they are ready to step out. And sometimes, heartbreakingly, it means acknowledging and accepting they may never invite me in.

This is where love encounters limits. And where limits, ironically, keep love genuine.