30 Days Of Radical Honesty Journalling Challenge Day 8: How Has Love Changed Me-Broken Me, Rebuilt Me, Redefined Me?

Love has carved itself into me like a wind-sculpted canyon—wide, deep, raw in places, breathtaking in others. I have given love recklessly, with abandon, like a flood that never asks who is willing to swim. I’ve loved even when it bruised me, even when it tore through the delicate scaffolding of my soul and left me stitched back together with trembling hands and bone-deep scars. Still, I love.

I have learned that love does not always require proximity. It does not need to be returned in equal measure to be real, to be felt, to be sacred. I’ve discovered the quiet ache of loving from a distance, of offering care with boundaries, of holding people at arm’s length because holding them too close burns. Especially when those people are bound to me by blood but fray me at the edges every time they enter the room.

It’s been one of my most painful revelations—that the only way to love some people is from far away. That you can grieve someone who is still alive. That sometimes survival means choosing space over sentiment.

But I remain open.

That’s something Crystal taught me. To love with a heart that doesn’t flinch. To remain soft in a world that punishes softness. She reminded me that vulnerability is a form of heroism. That to open your heart again and again, knowing it might break, is the most radical act of hope.

It was my open heart that led me to my husband. My partner. My other half.

Loving him showed me that solitude isn’t a prerequisite for peace. That home can be a person. That stillness can be shared. That love, real love, is not always loud—it can be quiet, encompassing, steady. A force that doesn’t demand attention but shapes your entire world.

He is where my soul lounges in the sun. Where I find stillness in the togetherness. He is loyalty incarnate. If I’m ever backed into a corner, he’s already beside me, sleeves rolled, eyes locked, ready to fight our way through. Not to rescue me—but to stand with me. To hold the glue when we crack. To gather the pieces and rebuild what matters. To remind me that broken does not mean ruined.

Love has broken me, yes. But it has rebuilt me with stronger bones and a softer heart. It has redefined what matters. It has taught me that tenderness is not weakness, that distance can be devotion, and that choosing to remain open in the face of pain is the bravest thing I will ever do.

And I will keep doing it. Again and again.

Because love—honest, flawed, expansive love—is what makes me whole.

Peace, Love, and Inspiration,
~Britt Wolfe💚