This past year has been one of the hardest, as I’ve had to navigate the pain of getting over someone I deeply loved. The journey of mending a broken heart has been anything but straightforward. Yet through the struggle, I’ve found that healing isn’t about erasing the love I felt, but about rediscovering myself through the loss.

Heartbreak forces me to confront vulnerability and unearth the resilience that often goes unnoticed in times of happiness. I’ve learned that love, in its intensity, is not just about giving, but also knowing when to let go.

True healing begins not when I forget the person, but when I grow beyond the shadow of the relationship. It’s a process of cultivating self-compassion and nurturing independence, not by denying the pain, but by embracing it. Through suffering, I forge new strength.

Moving forward requires a shift in perspective. Rather than seeing the end of love as failure, I now view it as a transition into self-discovery. It’s an opportunity to reevaluate my values, redefine my aspirations, and focus on the life I wish to create; one rooted in joy, purpose, and fulfillment. Growth may be uncomfortable, but it is through discomfort that I flourish.

I’ve come to understand that love does not abandon; it transforms. It invites me to love myself more fully, to seek happiness from within, and to anchor my well-being in my own spirit. Closure isn’t a single moment; it’s a series of small releases, each loosening the grip of the past.

The first step is acceptance; acknowledging that love, like all things, changes. What once connected us now drifts apart, not out of malice, but from the natural course of life. We are beings in motion, evolving, and sometimes our paths diverge.

I’ve learned to embrace the silence that follows absence. It’s tempting to fill the void with distractions, but in solitude, I’ve found clarity. Sitting with my pain and letting it unravel at its own pace has shown me that the heart has an incredible capacity for healing when given the space to breathe. Each tear is a testament to the depth of my love, not a weakness.

Time, I’ve realized, isn’t the healer; awareness is. Time will pass regardless, but it’s the moments of self-reflection and introspection that allow me to break free from old memories. Pain is not a punishment, but a lesson, each heartbreak teaching me more about myself, my desires, and the love I want and deserve.

Moving on is, in its own way, an act of faith. It requires me to let go of the past and open my heart to the unknown, trusting that something new awaits. In the gentle release, I’ve found peace. By not clinging to what was, I’ve made space for what might be.

The greatest lesson, though, is that love doesn’t belong to anyone but myself. The love I gave and received remains within me, undiminished. Though the person I shared it with is no longer beside me, the essence of that love is a part of who I am and who I will continue to become.

This journey has taught me that getting over someone isn’t about forgetting them; it’s about remembering who I am without them. It’s about finding the strength to move forward, with grace, knowing that love will find me again, perhaps when I least expect it.

—

Healing isn’t forgetting,
It’s growing through the loss.
Love changes, not abandons,
And I rediscover myself.

In silence, clarity sprouts,
Each tear is a mark of strength.
Moving on means letting go,
And making space for what’s next.

— Sincerely, Boris

In my journey as a marketer and strategist, working within the dynamic world of media and advertising, I’ve come to realize that success is not born from flashes of creative brilliance alone. It is something deeper, a persistent force; grit, that has driven my professional development and growth. It has become clear to me that in an industry where innovation, creativity, and strategy is highly valued, it’s not simply enough to have vision. Sustaining that vision requires dedication, discipline, and the ability to weather setbacks with unwavering resolve.

Early in my career, I believed that raw talent or the next big idea would be the key to success. But with time, I came to see that ideas, much like passion, are fleeting unless coupled with a dogged commitment to execution. Campaigns aren’t made great by the initial spark of inspiration; they succeed through relentless iteration, feedback, and optimization. It’s not the glamour of pitching an idea that creates long-term impact; it’s the persistence in refining it, over and over, even when the outcome isn’t immediately clear.

I’ve learned that in media and advertising, failure is inevitable. Campaigns don’t always hit the mark, trends shift, and audiences are ever-evolving. But rather than being discouraged by setbacks, I’ve grown to view them as critical moments in my professional development. Each challenge, whether it’s a missed opportunity or a campaign that falls short, has become a lesson in resilience. With each, I’ve honed my ability to pivot, to absorb feedback, and to adapt; skills that are as essential as creativity in this fast-paced industry.

In the same way that grit shapes personal success, it’s the cornerstone of professional growth in media. Success is less about having one breakthrough moment and more about showing up every day with determination, ready to push forward despite the obstacles. I’ve seen how those who persist, who learn from failure, and who continuously strive for improvement in their craft are the ones who ultimately thrive.

As I reflect on my career, I understand now that it wasn’t my initial creative spark that defined my trajectory, but my willingness to grind through the mundane aspects of the process, to work toward long-term goals even when progress was slow. It’s this fusion of passion and perseverance that has allowed me to turn ideas into impactful campaigns, and to evolve in an ever-changing industry.

—

It’s not the spark that lights the flame,
But steady hands, day after day.
A mind that bends but will not break,
Through every challenge, for progress’ sake.

It’s not in speed, nor strength, nor flight,
But rising up, time after time.
For grit is forged in quiet strain,
A constant push against the grain.

When all seems lost, and dreams grow dim,
Grit finds the strength to try again.

— Sincerely, Boris

As I guide my daughter through the complexities of the world, I recognize that the pressures of modern culture seek to mold her in ways that may distort her sense of self. In this process, my role becomes one of fierce protection, gentle guidance, and deep listening.

I must first instill in her an unshakable belief in her intrinsic worth. Society will try to measure her by external standards; appearance, achievements, social validation; but I teach her that her value is inherent, stemming from her character, kindness, and the unique power she brings into the world. I show her that true confidence is cultivated from within, rooted in understanding who she is, rather than how others see her.

Part of this journey as a father is ensuring she understands the importance of setting boundaries. I teach her to listen to her intuition and to assert herself, knowing that saying “no” is not a sign of weakness but of strength. In a culture that often exploits vulnerability, I help her discern trustworthiness in others and remind her that her body, her mind, and her heart are hers to protect (with a little help from her father).

It is essential that she finds a balance between independence and connection. I encourage her to pursue her passions with relentless curiosity while also fostering deep, meaningful relationships with those around her. The strength I want her to embody is not only about resilience in the face of challenges, but also about cultivating compassion; for herself and others.

I embrace my role as a father in the fullness of my imperfections, showing her that strength is not about being infallible but about owning mistakes and learning from them. Through my actions, I seek to model what it means to be emotionally available, self aware, to listen before responding, and to act with integrity.

As a divorced father, I have an added responsibility to provide her with stability, even when life feels fractured. I must be the steady presence in her life, offering her a safe haven where she can explore the world without fear of judgment. I make it clear to her that her family structure does not define her; she is not diminished by it but can find strength in her ability to navigate its complexities with grace, as I have.

My love for her is an anchor, one that will carry her through the challenges of adolescence and beyond. My hope is that, through this unconditional love, she will grow into a woman who is not only strong but wise, empathetic, and unapologetically herself.

—

I promise, daughter, to be your guide,
To walk beside you, to never hide.
I’ll show you strength and how to stand,
With courage held in your own hand

I promise to let you grow and be,
To find your path and set you free.
In every step, through joy and strife,
I’ll honor the woman you shape in life.

I promise to protect your heart,
To guard your spirit from the start.
No matter where I am or roam,
I’ll always find my way back home.

— Sincerely, Boris

I’ve come to understand that healing from a breakup is not merely about moving on, but about transforming loss into an opportunity for self-growth. The hardest lesson was the necessity of letting go completely; closing every door to the past, not to escape, but to confront the emptiness it had left behind. In mourning the end of the relationship, I also had to mourn the version of myself I had lost along the way; and accepting that the future we had planned would never come to pass. This loss was not just of what was, but of what could have been. Yet, through time and the hard work of healing, I’ve found peace with this reality. Letting go of what was never meant to be has created space for new possibilities.

Setting new boundaries became essential. I learned that protecting my heart and mind required a lot of discipline, not as a defense, but as a way to reclaim my energy and direct it inward. In doing so, I realized that self-care isn’t indulgence; it is the deliberate act of rebuilding my sense of worth.

One of the most important lessons I learned was accountability. I had to take responsibility for my choices, both in the relationship and in my healing. While forgiving myself for past mistakes was essential, even more crucial was holding myself to a higher standard moving forward. I began to clearly distinguish between love and attachment, between desire and need. Through this process, my perception of my ex shifted significantly, leaving me to question much about our past. It has been liberating to finally break free from the heartbreak that once consumed me.

As I worked to rebuild my self-esteem, I reawakened parts of me that had been silenced, rediscovering who I was before and who I could potentially become. Heartbreak, rather than something to avoid, became a refining force, shaping me into a stronger and more resilient version of myself.

As I rebuild my life and shape the future I now desire, I remain optimistic. I trust that love will find me again, and I will never give up on that journey. The pain has been my teacher, guiding me toward a deeper understanding of love, and preparing me for what lies ahead.

—

From our end, I found my start,
Fixing the pieces of my broken heart.
Heartbreak taught me to look within,
To face the pain beneath my skin.

In the torment, I learned to see,
That love was never about you and me.
What once was broken is now whole,
In losing you, I’ve regained my soul.

No longer bound to what is gone,
I rise, renewed, and carry on.
The heart that ached has learned to mend;
In its healing, I find my strength once again.

— Sincerely, Boris

There are parts within me that have been shaped by early pain and fear; a life spent on guard, vigilant against the consequences of any misstep. I learned to divide myself, to hide certain parts, for safety’s sake; leaving fragments of myself that grew accustomed to survival, even as it yearned for connection. But in time, I have come to understand that this fractured past within me holds potential for healing, for growth, and, perhaps most importantly, for a new way of being.

These inner divisions; the parts of myself that I once rejected, feared, or simply didn’t understand; are not obstacles to overcome but parts of me that require compassion and understanding. They formed in a space of need, a response to an environment that offered little safety. Each part, the cautious one, the silent one, the fierce protector; emerged in response to that fearful environment. Rather than erasing them, I now see the importance of recognizing and holding space for these parts, welcoming them as survivors who kept me whole when wholeness felt impossible. Recognizing them as such has shifted my inner perspective; I now see them not as burdens but as bearers of survival, protectors who were once essential and who still seek my recognition and care.

In parenting my daughter, I see these fragmented parts come to life in unexpected ways. The father I have become is one forged in the fires of my own longing to be held, understood, and valued. Every hug, every kind word, every act of support I offer her is an affirmation of the love I once sought. In her presence, I am able to rewrite the script of my own life, to give what was missing and, in doing so, heal some of the wounds that linger within. Through her, I am learning that these parts of myself do not need to be banished; they need to be invited in, to be heard, and to be allowed to rest.

There is a quiet transformation that happens when I approach these parts of myself not with disdain or shame, but with gentle curiosity. I am learning to sit with the parts of me that flinch or recoil, to hear their voices without judgment. In doing so, I become whole, not by silencing these voices but by honoring their role in my journey. This process; an intimate and, at times, unsettling path; reveals that healing is less about “fixing” oneself than it is about integration, about making room for all that I am, even the painful pieces that I once tried so hard to forget.

In becoming a father who breaks the cycles of silence and abandonment, I find myself embracing a deeper, more profound truth: that each of these parts has a place, and each is worthy of love. I am piecing myself together in a way I wish had been modeled for me as a child, building within me the compassion I once desperately needed and am now able to extend outward. My daughter, in her innocence and wisdom, is both my greatest joy and my mirror; she shows me the parts of myself that still need my love. And in loving her, I am, at last, learning to love all of me.

—

Born into darkness,
I learned to be small,
to tiptoe through childhood,
make myself quiet, unseen.

Now I carry the scars,
not as burden but as strength,
fuel for a steady, unbreaking love,
a light my daughter will never fear.

I break the silence through resilience,
rewrite the script with gentle hands.
What I was denied,
she will know as her birthright.

For her, I am whole,
and in her, I am healed.

— Sincerely, Boris

I have gone through life,
But It had no purpose,
A meaningless stride,
Nothing beneath surface,

I have had no goal,
No dreams, no ambition,
Life settled in stone,
A fool on an audition,

In that mindless state,
I have lived for years,
I altered my fate,
Got rid of my fears,

I'm glad I kept going,
Glad I haven't stopped,
This tree keeps on growing,
This soul never dropped,

I wanted to stop,
My meaningless stride,
I wanted to stop,
This life with no pride,

There was an option,
But I never took it,
Life's filled with emotion,
But I do not look it,

I never thought of killing myself,
That was a way I never entailed,
I never thought to hang on a shelf,
I never made a plan so detailed,

I never thought to jump from a height,
I never thought to fall to my death,
To fall from a place where one could take flight,
I never thought to take my last breath,

There was no point of going that way,
That's why I chose to live one more day,
A day in my life, meaningless at times,
A day in my life, a place full of lies,

Now here I stand,
No more beneath surface,
Please give me a hand,
I have found my purpose,

For I found my cure,
For it is to teach,
For it's  to make pure,
What others can't reach.

I awoke

With little surprise

at the rope

slithering over my wrists

and the chains

laced around my ankles

I look around

Unappalled

by the emptiness

of this space

by the lack of light

that should otherwise be flooding

this vast,

hollow void.

I shout

for help

for mercy

for peace

My pleas

stream from my mouth

and echo around my head

ricocheting off the edges

of what seems

to be the world

expanding

Filling the deepest depths

of the darkest places

I listened

Unfazed

to the faded ringing

of impending silence

and the rise of cruel laughter

and yelps of glee

at my despair

at my sorrow

at my weakness

at my anger

and my hunger

for freedom

Deafened

by my cold

shattered

heartbeat

by my racing thoughts

and the apathetic symphony

that floats through the air

Filled with frustration

bent by rage

beat down

broken

exhausted

I choke back tears

and bite my tongue

I close my eyes,

shutting off the world before me

And I wait

Hoping

to feel a trickle of hope

a few drops of courage

Confused

and disappointed

by the sharp numbness

that filled my soul

I wondered

Will I be like this forever?

or is this the point where silence

will amount

to light

to strength

and to happiness?

Is it a swan song?
Plea for help, etched on a bench
Carved into my mind