Rebel Heart, Unbridled Enthusiasm

The Journey over the Destination

I couldn't shake the feeling that I had given up too soon. My mom's words kept echoing in my head, "Trust, be patient, work on yourself." It was as if her advice had taken on a life of its own, weaving through my thoughts and nagging at my conscience. Each time I heard her words, I felt a twinge of regret. I had let go too easily, walked away without giving myself the time to fully understand the situation.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized how hastily I had made my decision. There was a part of me that wanted to convince myself that moving on was the right thing to do. But as the days passed, it became clear that something had been left unresolved. I couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was that was bothering me, but I knew I needed to take responsibility for my actions. The guilt was weighing me down, and I felt like I needed to make things right, even if I didn't fully understand how to go about it.

In a moment of reflection, I made a decision. I reached out and apologized, though I wasn't entirely sure why or what the apology was meant to fix. It just felt necessary. There was no grand plan behind it, no strategy for reconciliation. I simply needed to acknowledge my own role in the way things had played out.

"Hey, I'm sorry," I typed, the message brief but sincere. "I know I haven't been my best, and I take responsibility for that. Can we just start over and be friends? No pressure, no expectations, just friendship. We can figure out the rest later."

As soon as I sent the message, a rush of anxiety hit me. I didn't know what kind of response to expect, or if I would even get one. But at the same time, I felt a small sense of relief. Apologizing felt like the first step toward resolving the tension that had been lingering in my mind. Whether it led to anything beyond that, I wasn't sure, but at least I had taken ownership of my part in the situation.

To my surprise, the response came quickly. "Thank you for apologizing," the message read. "I've been thinking about things too, and I agree this is for the best. Let's focus on being friends and building a strong foundation."

Reading those words, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. It wasn't just about the apology being accepted; it was the realization that we were both on the same page. We had both been reflecting on what had gone wrong and what we needed to do differently. There was a sense of relief in knowing that we didn't need to force anything or rush toward a solution. Instead, we could start fresh, without the pressure of trying to make something happen.

This time around, our conversations felt different. There was no urgency, no expectation to define what we were or where things were going. We talked like we hadn't before, more openly, more honestly. There was a lightness to our interactions, a sense of freedom that hadn't been there before. Without the looming pressure of a relationship, we were able to simply enjoy getting to know one another again.

It was during these moments that I realized something important. I had been so focused on the end goal that I had forgotten about the journey. In my mind, everything had been about reaching a certain destination—defining what we were, making things work, planning for the future. But in doing so, I had overlooked the small, everyday moments of connection that make relationships meaningful. I had been running toward the finish line without appreciating the steps that would get me there.

Now, with a fresh perspective, I allowed myself to embrace the uncertainty. We didn't have to figure everything out right away. Instead of worrying about what might happen down the road, we focused on building a genuine connection in the present. There were no expectations hanging over us, no rush to make decisions about the future. It was just two people reconnecting and learning from one another in a more natural way.

Friendship became the focus, and through that lens, I began to see things more clearly. I realized that I had been approaching things with a mindset of fear—fear of failure, fear of losing someone, fear of not being enough. But fear had no place in building a strong connection. It was trust, understanding, and patience that created the foundation for something lasting. And that foundation had to start with friendship. Without it, everything else would crumble under the weight of unrealistic expectations.

As we continued on this new path, I found myself growing more comfortable with the unknown. I didn't need to have all the answers. I didn't need to control where things were headed. Instead, I allowed the process to unfold naturally. We talked more, supported each other in our individual pursuits, and learned to be there for one another without needing a specific label or title to define what we were. It was liberating.