A heartfelt reflection on boundaries, resilience, and the strength it takes to walk away from those who abandoned you in your hardest moments
Those Who Left Me in the Storm Have No Place on My Shore
By Desalegn Terecha | Reflections on Resilience and Boundaries
Life has a way of revealing people—not through their words, but through their silence. Especially in your darkest hour, when the storm howls and the ground beneath you disappears, you learn who truly stands with you. And more often than not, it's not who you expected.
I’ve lived through moments where I felt like I was drowning—emotionally, mentally, sometimes even spiritually. And what hurt most wasn’t the struggle itself. It was the sudden emptiness around me. The people I thought would hold me up were gone. Some vanished quietly. Others justified their absence with shallow logic. But in the end, I was alone.
Resilience Isn’t Just About Survival. It’s About Memory.
When we talk about resilience, we often imagine rising up like a phoenix. We picture strength and glory. But true resilience isn’t just rising—it's remembering. It’s recalling who left you when you were gasping for air. It's recognizing who handed you an anchor when you needed a rope.
I don’t say this with bitterness. I say it with boundaries. There’s a quiet wisdom that suffering gives you. You stop begging for people’s presence. You stop explaining your worth. You stop letting guilt make you reopen doors that pain had already closed for a reason.
Why Boundaries Matter More After the Storm
People love to show up for the success story. They love the glow-up, the comeback, the spotlight. But they forget the sleepless nights, the internal battles, the silent cries for help. And if you weren’t there during my breaking, I’m sorry—but you don’t get to celebrate my healing.
This is where boundaries become a sacred act of self-respect. They are not walls to keep love out. They are fences to keep harm away. They are lines drawn not from hate, but from clarity.
“If you left me when I was drowning, don’t expect to be included in my triumph when I reach the shore.”
These are not just poetic words—they are truths carved from lived experience. You learn to differentiate between seasonal support and lifelong loyalty. Between curious observers and committed companions.
The Unspoken Pain of Being Left Behind
Let’s be honest—being abandoned in your low moments changes you. It rewires how you trust, how you share, how you love. There’s a part of you that always hesitates afterward. You wonder if people are sincere, or if they’re just around for the sunshine.
Healing isn’t linear, and neither is forgiveness. You can let go of resentment, but still say, “You’re not safe for my heart.” You can wish someone well, and still walk away. You can be at peace, and still protect your energy.
The Shore Is Sacred
After everything you’ve been through—the nights you survived, the strength you had to find within yourself—the shore is sacred. It’s the place of new beginnings. It’s where your soul exhales, where joy returns, where peace builds a home.
Not everyone should be there. Not everyone deserves to be there.
You don’t owe access to everyone who watched you struggle from a distance. You don’t owe your healing to the hands that hurt you, or your triumph to those who doubted you. You owe it to yourself to guard your peace like a precious gem.
Who Belongs in Your Circle Now?
As you rebuild your life, think deeply about your circle. Who poured into you when you were empty? Who listened without judgment? Who stayed when there was nothing to gain? These are the ones who belong on your shore.
Don’t be afraid to outgrow people. Some relationships were only meant to teach you lessons, not travel with you forever. And that’s okay. Growth sometimes looks like solitude. Peace sometimes means walking alone.
This Is Your Permission Slip
So here’s your permission slip: You’re allowed to say no. You’re allowed to protect your space. You’re allowed to heal without inviting your past back in. You’re allowed to celebrate yourself, even if no one clapped for you when you were down.
You are not cold. You are not unkind. You are simply aware of what your soul can no longer carry.
Let the Shore Be a Celebration, Not a Reunion
Healing isn’t a reunion party. It’s a rebirth. It’s a quiet knowing that you made it despite it all. The shore is not a stage for applause from those who walked away—it’s a space for your spirit to dance with those who stayed.
So let go of the guilt. Let go of the pressure to make everyone comfortable. Your peace was paid for in tears. Guard it with fire.
Final Thoughts: You’re Not Alone
If you’ve been through something similar—if you’ve been abandoned in your storm and had to swim alone—I want you to know this: you’re not alone. Many of us have had to rebuild from brokenness. Many of us have learned to rise without applause. And in doing so, we’ve discovered our deepest strength.
You’re not bitter for setting boundaries. You’re not mean for closing doors. You’re not selfish for choosing peace. You’re simply someone who knows the value of the shore—because you almost didn’t make it.
Comments
Post a Comment