The Almost That Broke Me

It wasn’t even official.
That’s what made it harder to explain—and even harder to move on from.

People told me to get over it.
But how do you get over something that never technically began… but still managed to wreck you?

It started as a friendship.
Late-night convos. Deep talks. Shared playlists. Inside jokes that made me smile without thinking.

He remembered the small things—my love for chamomile tea, my childhood fear of thunder, that one quote I always said when I was nervous.
He said I made him feel seen.
I thought he saw me too.

So when he started saying things like “I wish every girl was like you” or “If timing was better…” I let my heart lean in.
Just a little at first.
Then all the way.

We weren’t “together.” But I was already all in.
And then… he pulled away.

No big fight.
No closure.
Just a slow fade.
Suddenly, he was replying less, talking less, opening up to others—and I was left reading old messages, trying to figure out what changed.

Was I too much?
Not enough?

I spiraled.
I replayed every detail, every moment that made me feel chosen—only to realize it might’ve meant something only to me.

And the worst part?
I didn’t feel like I was allowed to grieve.
Because what we had wasn’t “real.”
But the pain sure was.

I stopped praying about relationships.
I avoided weddings and love stories.
I questioned my own worth, my ability to ever be fully loved—not just when I’m funny, or helpful, or easy to talk to.
But loved when I’m unsure. When I’m messy. When I need.

Then one afternoon, while doom-scrolling through Instagram, a post popped up from an account called HopeBegins.
It read:

“You’re not broken beyond repair. You’re healing — and that’s holy.”

I don’t know why, but I clicked on the page.
I read post after post, and I cried.
And for the first time in months, I felt understood. Seen. Like someone had words for the ache I couldn’t name.

And then I saw this verse:

“I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten…”
— Joel 2:25

I had read it before. But in that moment, it landed differently.
It felt like a promise just for me.

A promise that this pain, this loss, this “almost” that broke me…
God could redeem it.
Not just the guy, or the memory, but me.
My joy. My softness. My ability to love without fear again.

Healing didn’t come all at once.
It came in pieces.
In therapy sessions where I said things out loud for the first time.
In quiet coffee dates with girlfriends who whispered “I’ve been there.”
In journaling through every lie I believed about why I wasn’t “the one.”
And in slowly returning to the God who never made me beg to be chosen.

I’m still healing.
Some days I feel strong.
Some days I still scroll through his social media wondering if he ever missed me.
But I’m no longer stuck.
And I’m no longer ashamed of what broke me.

Because it’s also what brought me back to the truth:

I was never too much.
I was never not enough.
I was just trying to love someone who wasn’t ready to hold it.

And now? I’m letting God hold me instead.
And it’s more than enough.

— A woman learning to hope again,
Held and Healing

HopeBegins exists for women like you—hearts that have been bruised by “almosts” and deeply tired from pretending they’re okay. Through faith-driven coaching, a grace-filled process, and safe community, we help you rebuild your sense of worth, restore your identity, and heal with hope.

Connect with us now. Drop your email address below!
Healing takes time—but you don’t have to do it alone.