we broke up

wholesome breakup no. 1

i was in the amazon.

he was in hawaii.

we talked.

a few days before our call, i had been on a three-day boat ride with no internet access.

like—middle of the freaking jungle, zero signal, howling my phone to the sky like simba in the lion king, hoping for just one bar to reach either my boyfriend or my acting agent.

before the boat trip, i’d had a call with a well-known german director.

after a few takes, she confirmed: i got it.

my first big movie role.

WTF.

after the confirmation, i decided to shorten my trip around the world—

and that somehow led me, alone, into the heart of the amazon.

so there i was, floating through the jungle on this wooden boat, no access to the outside world, imagining myself on the red carpet—

and then spiraling.

oh god. i should really be forbidden to think.

i started seeing this horror-movie version of my life,

where my wild, viking-looking, spearfishing-type american boyfriend stood next to me at premieres,

and it just… didn’t fit.

he was beautiful, grounded, fun, caring.

but fancy?

red carpet?

berlin?

creative chaos?

hell no.

and that made me feel awful.

he was a good man.

willing to come halfway across the world for me.

just not my man for this future.

when i finally reached land and reopened my phone,

i found out they had cancelled my role.

fuck.

since no one could reach me for days, they probably thought i’d been eaten by a cheetah or something.

and just like that, my first big chance… gone.

with a heavy heart, i kept going.

and a few days later, my boyfriend and i—

him in hawaii, me in the jungle—

had the softest, strangest breakup i’ve ever known.

we said “i love you.”

we said “but we don’t see a future.”

we cried.

and in that moment,

as i sat there with my new french friend from the boat, alice,

i felt something surreal:

the curtains of the room were petting me.

i swear.

they moved, gently, like they were stroking my skin,

saying:

it’s okay. this will pass.

and it did.

i cried and cried.

and then, suddenly,

the pain was gone.

wholesome breakup no. 2

by now, i’m 28.

and he seems perfect.

he’s good with my daughter. like actually good.

he’s good with the dog.

he’s willing to move wherever i want to live.

willing to leave everything behind.

willing to step up in his life, his work, his becoming.

willing, yes. but not ready.

and i feel that.

i feel how much he would do for me.

and somehow that makes it harder.

because he’s so healing just by being there—

watching mahlia so i can write,

walking the dog when i don’t feel like meeting the wind or the world.

he’s soft. steady. kind.

he doesn’t want to own me.

he just wants to be with me.

and most days, it’s beautiful.

we don’t fight.

we speak in nonviolent communication.

we say what we feel.

we listen.

we laugh. a lot.

we hold.

but one day, i take some space.

i sit with myself.

and i ask the question that burns:

what do i need now?

not in a year.

not when he’s “there.”

now.

and the answer comes loud:

i want to be held.

like—really held.

especially when it comes to safety. to home.

i want support.

a home.

stability.

not in theory.

not eventually.

now.

because i left my comfort behind.

i jumped.

i risked.

and now i have big dreams—

like actually big.

change-the-world-a-little-bit dreams.

build-a-women’s-project-in-brazil dreams.

fight-violence-and-create-opportunity dreams.

and i know:

to do that, i need to be held.

not rescued. not controlled.

held.

i want someone who already has a home.

who already has a life that’s ready to receive mine.

someone who wants to carry a little of this weight with me.

someone who doesn’t need to change for me—

because he already is what i need.

but mostly:

because he already is what he needs.

someone who doesn’t need to be initiated into manhood—

because he’s already standing in it.

and this man, this beautiful, caring man:

he’s not there.

i know he could be.

i know in a year he might.

but i’ve done this.

i’ve waited before.

i’ve hoped before.

and now?

i want presence.

not potential.

so we talk.

we cry.

he cries. i cry.

we hug.

i fall asleep on his chest.

he tells me i’m the best thing that ever happened to him.

and i say: i know.

and i mean it with love.

and i say: i hope there’s something even better for you.

and i mean that too.

we don’t hate each other.

we don’t blame.

we just… let go.

not because it wasn’t real.

but because i’m done carrying everything alone.

because i finally love myself enough

to choose a full yes.

and just like that—

i’m single again.

unexpectedly.

not because of heartbreak or betrayal,

but because i finally decided to see that my dreams, desires, and needs

are sacred direction.

not to be negotiated.

but to be received—

by me. and by the people who love me.

i want to live in berlin.

i want to be received by a home that means me—

not one i have to build from scratch.

and somehow i wonder:

when did the girl who once left her own will behind to be next to a boy

become this soft and this strong—

a woman who now says:

i could do it all on my own.

but i don’t want to.

and i definitely don’t want to do it

with someone

who’s just not there yet.