The Day After Valentine’s Day

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day.
Hearts. Roses. Declarations of forever.

That's for some of us.

But for her?

11:32 PM, she calls.
Her voice trembling.
Breath uneven.

I feel it
The devastation beneath her words.
The ground cracking under the weight of disbelief.

Everything she believed in
Love.
Family.
Trust.

Growing together.
Choosing each other.
Wanting the best
Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually.

(Scott Peck, in The Road Less Traveled, reminds us that love isn’t a feeling; it’s a commitment to growth.)

But how do you hold onto that truth
when the person beside you lets go?

He wants a divorce.
She can barely breathe.

When Love Breaks, Reality Shifts

Pain like this isn’t just emotional.
It’s existential.

It fractures the self.
Shatters the known world.
Forces the mind to ask questions it’s never dared to ask:

Was it ever real?
Did I miss the signs?
What does this say about me?

Her heart wants to run.
To beg.
To freeze the moment, reverse time, undo the damage.

But pain has no rewind button.
Only a doorway
narrow, dark, unfamiliar.

The doorway of awakening.

Pain as a Reluctant Teacher

No one chooses this initiation.

The betrayal. The abandonment. The silence.

Yet, beneath the agony, there is a whisper.

A question that pain always asks:

Now that what you leaned on has crumbled, who will you become?

This is the kind of suffering that either closes a heart forever
or cracks it open so wide that life, in all its rawness, rushes in.

Not romantic love.

Not the love we celebrate with rituals
of mindless or mindfull absence.

But real love.
The love that doesn’t flinch from truth.

The love that stands steady when everything else falls apart.

The love that says:

• I will feel it all—without running.
• I will stay open—while everything in me wants to shut down.
• I will rise—not in spite of the pain, but because of it.

The Courage to Remain Open

We often think courage is loud.

Bold. Heroic.

But the greatest courage is often quiet.

Invisible.

It’s the courage to wake up the day after devastation
and still choose life.

It’s the courage to sit with grief, without numbing.
To let the body tremble.
To allow the heart to break fully, without collapsing into bitterness.

Because love, real love, isn’t dependent on the other.

It doesn’t die because someone leaves.

It doesn’t dissolve when vows are broken.

Real love
the kind that transforms,
the kind that fuels creative work, relationships, and life itself
is born from the ashes of the love we thought we needed.

Pain as a Portal to Creativity

When a heart breaks, it doesn’t just break—it expands.

If you let it.

Pain strips away the masks.

The performative self.

The ego’s need for control and certainty.

And what remains is raw, unfiltered truth.

This truth
this place of absolute vulnerability
is where authentic creativity is born.

The poet who writes from their scars.
The entrepreneur who builds from their soul.
The parent who raises a child from a place of tender strength.

Because when you’ve walked through the fire of heartbreak
when you’ve faced the abyss and made it through
you no longer create from superficial ambition.

You create from essence.

From the deep, unshakable knowing that life is fleeting.

That love is both fragile and indestructible.

That your voice matters—not for applause, but because it is yours.

The Call of the Warrior Heart

She doesn’t know it yet, but this pain will shape her.

Not into someone hardened
but into someone more real.

The warrior heart isn’t callous.

It is tender. Present. Awake.

It learns that trust, once broken, can be rebuilt
not with others first, but within.

Because the foundation of all external love
is the relationship we hold with ourselves.

The Journey Forward

So what does this mean for the rest of us?

For those who haven’t received the call from heartbreak,
but who walk through life carrying invisible wounds nonetheless?

It means this:

1. Feel the small pains now.

Don’t wait for life to break you open.

Pause. Breathe.

Feel the subtle tension in your chest when you hold back your truth.

Feel the slight ache in your gut when you ignore your creativity.

2. Stay present with others.

When someone is in pain, resist the urge to fix.

Sit with them.

Let your presence be the balm.

3. Let pain fuel purpose.

Your greatest creative work will likely emerge from your deepest heartaches.

Don’t run from them.

Mine them.

Let them teach you.

Love Beyond Illusion

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day.

Today is the day after.

And maybe today
in the rawness of reality
we are closer to the truth of love than we were yesterday.

Because love isn’t found in the fleeting moments of romance.

It’s forged in the fire of loss.

In the decision to remain open,
curious,
and courageous
even when the heart aches.

Especially when the heart aches.

Because when we allow ourselves to break without closing,
we discover a love that cannot be taken away.

The kind that fuels everything.

Our life.
Our work.
Our impact.

The kind of love that endures
long after the roses have wilted
and the cards have been thrown away.

💬 What does love mean to you beyond Valentine’s Day?

Share your reflections.