This is an excerpt taken from the book that I am currently writing about the emotional journey of a woman who finds peace through heartbreak.

People often say, “Just get over it. Just move on.”
But until you’ve walked through something truly traumatic, you don’t realize—it’s not that easy. It’s not that simple to forget the memories. Not just the good ones, but the hard ones too. The ones that changed you.
Most people don’t understand. They don’t get it.
But I do.
I see. I feel. I know.

The way I move through pain is by allowing myself to fully feel it. I sit with it. I process it. I talk about it. And then—I write it down. That’s how I begin to heal.

I’ve been open in my blogs, sharing pieces of my life and the struggles I’ve faced with the world. It’s a choice I make willingly, because I write to heal, and in doing so, I hope to help others heal too.
There’s never a shortage of things to write about. Life is always unfolding, and with every chapter comes something worth sharing.

And now, I write this:
I release you.
I wasn’t okay. But now—I am.

I release you, and with you, I release the memories. All of them—from the beginning until now. I believe God places people in our lives for a reason. And you were no exception. I believe we were meant to cross paths so I could grow.
You expanded my perspective, challenged my reflection, and inspired change. You helped me become more of who I was meant to be.

I was deeply sad—truly broken for a while. But I had to feel it to move through it. And now, I’m at peace. I accept that this is how it has to be, at least for now.

That’s not to say I never loved you—because my God, I did.
I loved you with everything I had.
You may never fully know just how deeply.
But I’ve come to realize that love alone isn’t enough to make someone stay.
If I truly mattered, time would have been made—for me, without me having to ask for it.
Silence, after all, is an answer too.

There are still so many questions swirling in my mind.
And maybe I’ll never know the real reason you walked away.
Maybe I already do.
And if it’s what I think it is, let me say this:
I’m sorry.
Truly, deeply sorry.

If I hurt you—I am sorry for the pain I caused.

But if the reason is something else, something I may never know, then still—I release you.
I’m at peace with not knowing.
Because I have to live my life too.

I’ll hold onto the special moments—those genuine, beautiful memories.
The laughter, the joy, the connection that was real and undeniable.
We had something special. You know that. I know that.
And I will always be grateful for it.

But now, I have to let you go.
You go your way, and I’ll go mine.
Yes—it hurts.
But I will not let it consume me.
There’s a reason for this ending. I feel it in my soul.
And I’m no longer angry.
I’m at peace.
It’s okay now.
I release you.

Not because you were mine to begin with, but because—for a time—we were each other’s.

Go live your life. Do what you need to do.
And know this:

There is no one else in this world like me.
Out of eight billion people, not one shares my exact heart, my soul, or my story.
I am one of a kind.
I have a light shining so bright that nothing and no one can dim it.
I am loyal, loving, and steadfast.
I show up. I stay.
I see through the surface. I feel the truth in people.
I cannot be replaced.

So go.
I release this, and I release you.

Go make your memories.
Live your life.
I’ll keep the best of what we shared locked away in my heart.
And I wish you nothing but happiness.

I truly hope you find what it is you’re searching for.
Nothing will ever be quite the same after what we shared.
And that’s okay.

My wish for you is that this life becomes everything you dreamed it could be.
May you find joy, healing, and peace.
As for me, I’ve made peace with it.
I’m free now.
And I release you.

—Fran xoxo