I’ve come to understand that detachment is not abandonment but rather an act of self-respect; a quiet declaration that I deserve peace, that I refuse to be bound by cycles of unreciprocated love or relentless strain.

For 14 years, I tried to keep a relationship alive, mistaking resilience for staying power. I worked tirelessly, and my world narrowed to appeasing, to soothing, to holding on when there was nothing left to hold. I learned how to accept silence where there should’ve been comfort, slept on the floor while trying to sustain what we built together. I lost my sense of worth to a hope that maybe one day, things might change. It took years to see that love shouldn’t be a negotiation, and that the best loyalty is sometimes to oneself.

Stepping away was painful, and the act of never looking back demanded a kind of courage I hadn’t tapped into before. But there’s a quiet power in leaving with grace. I’ve learned that not every path is meant to be traveled forever, and sometimes we honor love most by letting it go.

Recently, I faced this lesson again, standing on the edge of possibility with someone I loved deeply. I wanted so badly to bridge the gap, to bring her back. But in this journey, I’ve realized that love, true love, chooses you back. It should stand beside you, as unwavering as your own will. So I stepped back, choosing myself over chasing what wasn’t reaching for me anymore.

In these moments, I teach my daughter what it means to walk away with dignity. I hope she sees that choosing herself will never be a weakness, but an understanding that we should always honor our own values. We deserve someone who sees the worth in the effort we give, someone who meets us where we are. And until that person comes along, we have our own strength to lean on.

What this has taught me is that walking away isn’t an ending; it’s making space for something better. It’s trusting that when we let go of what harms us, we open the door to what can truly fill us. And above all, I want my daughter to remember: walking away is not a failure; it’s the purest form of grace, an affirmation of our worth, and the promise of something more.

—

He did not surrender,
but chose a gentler path;
not out of weakness,
but the strength to finally let go.

He gave her his heart and soul,
filled the empty spaces with care,
held onto hope for a second chance,
for love and future with patience
until it slipped away.

In the clarity of distance,
he saw the truth he’d hidden from:
that sometimes love must loosen its grip,
not to vanish, but to set free.

So he walked away;
not bitter, nor broken,
but with the grace of a man who knows
that peace and respect weigh more
than a love that no longer reaches back.

And though he carries the sadness,
he feels the weight lifting,
his own quiet redemption,
a testament to the heart
that could have held on forever
but chose instead
to walk forward.

— Sincerely, Boris

I am confident because I am a woman,
Not a reflection of someone else’s desires,
Not an object to be shaped by their whims,
But a vibrant force, grounded and inspired.
They think they own my beauty,
As if it’s theirs to claim and consume.
But I’m the storm that shakes their ground,
A force of nature, bold and unbound.
Each scar I bear tells of my fight,
A testament to strength and might.
I rise like fire, daring and bold,
Defying limits they’ve tried to mold.
I honor the woman in my own mirror,
Her spirit unbroken, her vision clear.
If my independence stirs their unease,
Let my truth rise like a tempest, swift as the breeze.
I refuse to fit into their narrow confines,
Living authentically, where my spirit shines.
As free as the winds that weave through the trees,
With aspirations that soar beyond their pleas.
When their illusions begin to crumble and fall,
They lash out like shadows, but I stand tall.
Their approval was never my measure of worth;
I’ll reflect on this journey with pride and mirth.
Finding strength in each “no” that I dared to speak,
In every chain I shattered, in every dream I seek.
My path is my own, uniquely defined;
I am here—embracing the fire in my mind.
With courage as my compass and hope as my guide,
I’ll honor my story, with nothing to hide.

So they say:
I am diseased
because I’m different.
I am disgusting,
for I am distinct.

I am a widow on the wall,
a cockroach in the kitchen.
I am stubbed within the sand,
gouged into the grass.
You hold me in your index,
and huff me out your mouth,
for I, the English cigarette;
am a sickness in your lungs,
and the cancer beneath your feet.

I am black,
I am bubonic,
I am a plague.

They seem to fear my spread,
yet, I am pushed, I am prodded,
I am pummeled down to bone,
for I, the English cigarette;
am extinguished by your touch,
a light, and lifeless ****,
an easy target
caught between your malice
and the cruelty of your words.

You compel yourself to rise at the break of dawn,
yearning for a day
wrought with promise,
aspiring to evolve
into a finer version of yourself.
After a few gentle reassurances,
you become acutely aware of an amiable
yet slightly alien sensation—Happiness.
You relish this ephemeral joy,
cognizant of its fleeting nature.
However,
the instant you pass through
those well-trodden portals,
you seamlessly metamorphose into that polished,
ostentatious facade
that society demands.
You squander invaluable energy upon others,
along with your dwindling patience.
At day’s end, you find yourself utterly spent,
clutching the scant remnants of vitality
you valiantly preserved.
As you extinguish the lights,
you descend into a vast abyss of darkness,
relishing fleeting tranquility,
only to swiftly confront the bitter truth
of your exhaustion—
exhausted
from being fractured,
deceived,
belittled,
and loathed;
wearied of existence itself.
Gradually,
you retreat into the recesses of your mind
where you have lingered endlessly,
surveying the dimly lit room
as each object
dissolves into nothing more than shadows.
Then, silence envelops the world,
Poised
for your next act.
The solitary sound that emerges
is not of this earthly realm;
it is a voice—
one that might be deemed
Otherworldly,
insidious,
ghostly,
and extraordinarily compelling,
twisting tender words of comfort
into nefarious fabrications
aimed at your undoing,
and yet you embrace them,
soon feeling the anguish
of fresh wounds
as the warm crimson rivulets trace your skin.
Your body, finally ceasing its tremors from indignation,
becomes inundated with remorse.
You adorn yourself in fabric to conceal your suffering,
and with every sharp sting that the cloth inflicts,
you reproach yourself for your capitulation.
Your eyes brim with tears
that your weakened spirit cannot shed,
as you ensconce yourself within your sheets,
ensnared in the turmoil
of overthought and
relentless regret.
You surrender to slumber,
devoid of dreams or visions,
merely enveloped in whispering darkness—
another fleeting experience you cherish,
knowing you shall awaken anew,
resurrected with courage,
fully aware that this cycle
shall perpetuate with
relentless,
cold efficiency,
ad infinitum.

Grief is not something one simply “gets over.” It’s a profound and transformative process that we learn to carry with us, reshaping it into wisdom and strength. Through my own experiences; surviving a traumatic childhood, navigating a toxic divorce, losing a best friend, and enduring health battles; I’ve come to realize that grief is best navigated with the support of others, not in isolation.

There are essential needs we must honor when mourning: acknowledging the reality of loss, embracing the pain, and leaning on others to help carry the weight. Grief is not an experience to be rushed or solved, but rather a process of reconciliation; a deep acceptance that transforms us. Pain doesn’t vanish, but with time and support, we learn to live alongside it. I’ve walked this path, understanding that grief becomes a part of us, woven into the fabric of who we are, reshaping our identity.

I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have a circle of friends and family whose love has carried me through the darkest moments. My older sister and twin brother, in particular, have been my constant companions in this journey. They were there during my childhood, when trauma was a silent presence. They stood by me through my divorce, when I questioned my worth as a husband and father. And they held me up through the grief of losing my best friend and the challenges of facing health issues that left me questioning my own mortality.

In my journey as a 41-year-old single father to my beautiful 9-year-old daughter, I’ve come to understand the deep depths of grief and the importance of embracing vulnerability. Grief is not merely an experience to endure but a courageous path toward healing and authenticity. It has taught me that acknowledging our pain allows us to connect more deeply with ourselves and others, paving the way for genuine mourning.

Through my experiences in grieving past relationships, I’ve learned that vulnerability is a strength rather than a weakness. Recently, during a theater outing, my daughter witnessed my tears while watching Wild Robot. On our walk home, she courageously asked me which parts of the movie had affected me the most. We paused on a bench, sharing our feelings and reflecting on the moments that sparked emotion within us. Together, we grieved for the old goose Longneck, honoring his courage and bravery for a few quiet moments.

This experience not only deepened our bond but also illustrated to her that expressing emotions is a natural and valuable part of life. In those moments, I realized that fostering an environment where feelings can be shared freely helps nurture resilience and empathy in her. By embracing our vulnerabilities, we honor our grief and create space for love, connection, and understanding, reminding ourselves that mourning is an integral part of our shared humanity. In navigating my own grief, I hope to guide her in finding the courage to authentically experience her emotions as she grows, assuring her that it’s okay to feel deeply and openly in a world that often encourages the opposite.

What I’ve learned is that grief, in its purest form, is a communal experience. The presence of those who care for us is essential. It’s in their company that I’ve found solace, in their compassion that I’ve discovered the strength to keep moving forward. The relationships that have endured through these hardships have been my lifeline, helping me process not only the pain of loss but also the profound sense of survival and rebirth that follows.

In my support group, I’ve found a space where vulnerability is met with understanding, where shared experiences foster healing. These connections have reminded me that we are not meant to bear the weight of our grief alone. My siblings’ generosity and my friends’ loyalty have allowed me to reshape my pain into something meaningful. Through them, I’ve found the courage to keep walking this path, not in spite of the losses I’ve faced, but because of the love that surrounds me.

Grief may be inevitable, but it is not insurmountable. With time, with patience, and with the unwavering support of those who care for us, we can reconcile our losses and create a new understanding of who we are. In the end, it’s the love we receive that helps us carry the grief; and in that love, we find the strength to continue.

—

It’s as if you’ve spent a lifetime in pursuit, tirelessly honing your craft, only to meet the moment you’ve long awaited; and falter. In that instant, the prize you held so tightly slips through your fingers, drifting out of reach, lost forever.

Every step, every sacrifice, has led you here, only for the dream you chased so relentlessly to dissolve before your eyes. The weight of expectation presses down, and the failure burns deep, rending your heart in waves, relentless in its ache.

But at the end, where defeat seemed inevitable, something unexpected awaits. There, beyond the finish line, stand the ones you love most; cheering, smiling, their eyes bright with pride. Their applause whispers a truth louder than your loss: that second place is but a number. In their eyes, you have always been, and will always be, their champion.

— Sincerely, Boris

I learned that true healing begins with the recognition of the patterns passed down through generations, woven into the fabric of my emotional life. My childhood experiences, whether painful or nurturing, have shaped my responses to the world, and only by acknowledging the wounds left behind can I begin to free myself from their grip. I must confront the destructive behaviours that have taken root; those subtle habits of self-sabotaging and deeply ingrained fears that seem to guide my actions almost unconsciously.

To move forward, I take responsibility for my emotional growth. This journey requires me to nurture the parts of myself that have been neglected, to offer the care and compassion that were once missing. I have learned to cultivate an inner sense of safety, to build trust within myself, and to challenge the narratives that no longer serve me. Through deliberate self-exploration, I identify the beliefs and emotions that have kept me stuck, and I work to transform them into my greatest strengths.

It’s a process of reparenting; providing myself with the love, guidance, and protection I once sought from others. I gently untangle myself from the trauma that has echoed across generations, and in doing so, I begin to break free from the cycles of the past. Each step forward brings me closer to a more resilient, authentic version of myself, one that is capable of self-empowerment and emotional growth. This isn’t a journey of quick fixes but one of deep transformation, where I learn to honour my past while fully embracing the potential of who I am becoming.

——

I listen closely to his cry,
A truth long hidden, now untied.
With love, I heal the aching past,
And offer peace that’s meant to last.

I break the hold of old belief,
Release the pain, embrace relief.
In every tear, in every plea,
I find the strength to set him free.

I draw my boundaries firm and clear,
Protect the space that I hold dear.
With quiet strength, no longer torn,
The child within me has been reborn.

— Sincerely, Boris

There is a delicate art in facing fear. In the quiet spaces of my mind, I have often grappled with those deep-seated anxieties; the ones that linger beyond the obvious, like my childhood fear of heights, spiders, or bees. But fear, I’ve come to understand, is not simply an instinctual response; it is an illusion that seeks to disrupt our natural course, distorting reality and filling it with false limitations.

As I reflect on my personal fears, like the fear of disappointing those I love, the fear of being alone, or even the inevitable reality of death, I realize that these emotions, though real, are often exaggerated by a part of me that clings to control. They take root in uncertainty, feeding on the unknown, and that’s where they derive their power. Yet, the key to overcoming these fears lies not in fighting them directly, but in acknowledging them and seeing them for what they are; illusions designed to keep me from my personal growth.

Fear of failure, of not living up to expectations, can be paralyzing. It has, at times, made me doubt my ability to be a good father or to navigate the complexities of relationships. But what I’ve learned is that fear does not define me. It may attempt to impose narratives about inadequacy or isolation, but these stories are not truths; they are interpretations. I do not have to live by them.

The first step is recognizing when fear begins to speak. In those moments, instead of letting it drive my actions, I can choose to stand firm in my understanding of self. Fear may try to whisper that I am alone, or that I might not be enough for those I hold dear, but I now realize that these whispers are merely echoes of past insecurities. They are not the voice of my reality.

To truly cast out fear, I must strip away its falsehoods, stand grounded in my values, and recognize my strength, not in spite of fear, but because I have faced it. By dismantling the illusion, I can step forward confidently, knowing that while fear may exist, it holds no dominion over my choices, my identity, or my future.

In this understanding, I reclaim a more profound sense of peace. Fear is simply a shadow. And while it may darken parts of my journey, it can never overcome the light of my inner strength unless I let it. The power lies within me to confront fear, not with force, but with clarity. And in that clarity, fear begins to dissolve.

—

In the darkness where fear resides,
A whisper calls, a truth confides.
Don’t flee the shadows, don’t turn away,
Embrace the fear, let it have its say.

In uncertainty’s grip, we often freeze,
Yet within that tightness lies the key to ease.
Open your heart, let the emotion of fear flow,
In vulnerability, true courage will grow.

Fear, a teacher with lessons so profound,
In the quiet depths, strength can be found.
Befriend the fear, dance with its might,
For when the moment passes;
we will see the light.

I was born into a world of fear,
Where I grew up to hide my tears.
No steady hands to guide my way,
Only scattered paths I learned to face.
In madness, I sought to comprehend
A life that shifted without end.

I grew too fast, too much to bear,
The weight of truths placed in my care.
Yet through the bruises, I made my stand,
A way to live beyond demand.

No longer tied to what was given,
I carved a path, my own, forgiven.
It wasn’t just to survive the fall,
But to rise and live beyond it all.

Kindness starts within,
where wounds are tender.
When you heal yourself,
you’ll understand others better.

Stay present in the moments
when pain calls your name.
Don’t flee, don’t fight; just stay.
In stillness, strength is quietly gained.

Let your heart remain open,
no matter how it feels.
In the practice of courage,
your spirit gently heals.

— 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

do you ever feel like you're not enough? like what you do will never measure up. who to be and what to do have never come clearly to you.

i know you.

I know your pain, your sorrow, your lack of faith.

"how do i believe in myself when no one else does?"

you prove them wrong.

show them your strength, your courage, your confidence. prove to yourself that you deserve life, deserve to be on this planet we call earth.

we all have something to offer, you included.

show the world the best you can be and then they'll see that they were wrong about you and the things you can do.

spread your wings and jump, i know you'll fly.