Last night, my mind was scattered. I couldn’t think straight—just spiraling. I kept reaching for my phone, tempted to check social media, thinking, What’s going on? So, I gave in. Scrolled for a bit. Then finally told myself, enough, and put it down to rest my head.

But sleep didn’t come easy. I woke up around 2 AM, still restless, still curious. Checked again. Saw names online. Different minutes, but close. That…stung. I felt upset, like my gut already knew something was off. But then I had to stop myself. Breathe. Remind myself that this person—he’s told me many times that I should know better by now. That he wouldn’t do that. So I chose to believe him. Trust him. Again.

I slept through till 8:30 AM. But woke up feeling like crap. Heavy. Overexhausted. Jenna was in my head, like a whisper that won’t go away. I had to push myself to figure out what to do today, to try to map out some sort of plan. My friend texted asking if we could push our 1 PM meetup to 3. I said yes—honestly, I needed to get out anyway. Distraction helps when your heart’s spinning.

I just pray he keeps his word. That he understands what it means when I say I trust him—that it’s not easy for me to hand that over. And when it comes to boundaries? Whew. I don’t like the blurred lines between exes and “just friends” in relationships. I really hope he knows the difference and respects it. God, I hope I’m wrong about my gut feeling.

Then something else hit me.

I found out that my aunt passed away back in the Philippines. I froze. Shocked. She was my dad’s eldest sister. I hadn’t seen her since 2022—Christmas and New Year’s with my family, with Jenna. I didn’t make the time to visit, even though I knew she was sick. I felt guilty, but I was told she didn’t really know how to use her phone—couldn’t read my messages or emails. That hit hard. I tried. But still… I should have gone.

I texted my dad about her funeral and he said it’s already arranged—she’ll be cremated. What I couldn’t believe? She had been dead on the floor for four days before anyone found her. Four days. Alone. Her body already decomposing. That image is seared into my mind and my heart just… aches. She lived alone. And now I’m sitting here, in my own apartment, wondering: Will that be me one day?

It makes me think of when I visited her as a kid—her condo was always so dim and quiet. She told me she didn’t want love again after losing her first and only love in a car accident. That was it for her. No more relationships. Just solitude. And now I feel haunted by that silence. Wondering if I’ll also grow old alone. If I’ll die alone. But I’m learning—trying—to make peace with being alone. To not fear death. To accept it as part of life.

Still… I asked the universe last night, Am I going to be okay? Why is healing so damn hard?

It’s especially hard when I think about Jenna. We’re not together anymore. Soon-to-be ex-wives. And maybe—maybe—she’s seeing someone else. That thought is a knife. I keep reminding myself that she asked me to tell her if I start dating again. I promised I would. I just hope she’d do the same for me. It would be easier to hear it from her than through the Deaf grapevine.

I’m trying to focus on me. But it’s hard. I’m not ready to date, not even close. I still love her so much. I need at least 1-2 years to fully heal. And I think that’s good for me. Because in the past, I’d always jump into something new right away—never stopping to ask why the last relationship didn’t work. I wouldn’t even reflect. I’d just say “I’m fine” and move on, burying my feelings deep. But Jenna? She changed that. She hit something deep inside me that forced me to finally do the work. To reflect. To dig into my patterns. And I see them now—so clearly.

The lying. The mask I wore to save face. Part of my Filipino upbringing, I think. Growing up with a strict mom, learning to hide things just to survive. Now I’m unlearning all that. Peeling back layers. Working on trusting others, and trusting myself. I’m sensitive—and that’s not a flaw. That’s part of who I am. I just want people around me who see that. Who treat me with gentleness. Who don’t ghost me without warning, leaving me wondering what I did wrong.

If people just told me, “Hey, I need space,” I’d respect it. That would be so much better than silence. Communication matters. Boundaries matter. We all deserve that clarity, don’t we?

Sometimes I wonder why some people can’t offer it. Maybe they’re not ready. Emotionally unavailable. I know I can be that person, too. But at least I show up. I try to be there for others. To hold space when someone needs it.

One last thing circling in my brain—I hope Jenna, if she is dating again, chooses someone outside of the Deaf community. I know that sounds weird, but it would really hurt if it was someone from our community. I know a lot of people. It would be too close, too hard. I pray the universe doesn’t do me dirty like that. I believe it won’t. I have to believe that.

So… here I am. Sitting with all this. Letting it out. Not pretending I’m fine. Just being real.

And now, to anyone reading this, I want to ask:

• Have you ever felt scared of being alone… but also knew it was something you needed to learn?
• What does healing look like for you? Is it slow, messy, unclear—like mine?
• Do you think people can truly break their emotional patterns?
• How do you build trust with others, and how do you know who’s safe?

Thanks for being with me here. I’m still figuring it out—but I’m trying.