Man, 2018. That was a wild year, especially July. I remember it clearly because something just felt… off. Or maybe, on the verge of something. I was doing a lot of looking around, you know? Just seeing where things stood in my life, and honestly, love was a big ol’ question mark. Had this feeling in my gut that things couldn’t stay the same. It was either go big or go home, metaphorically speaking, with someone I was seeing at the time. We’d been doing this dance for a while, a real back-and-forth, and July just hit different. It felt like a crossroads, a real “what’s next?” moment for my heart.
The Setup: July 2018 Crossroads
I distinctly recall sitting out on my small balcony one evening in July, staring at the city lights. I was completely tangled up. My head was buzzing with all these thoughts about whether this person and I were ever going to actually get anywhere. We had this undeniable connection, but also, so much unspoken stuff, so much tiptoeing. I’d spent months, probably even a year, overthinking every text, every look, every delayed response. It was draining, honestly. My usual way of dealing with things, which is to analyze every single angle until I’m blue in the face, just wasn’t cutting it anymore. It was just leading to more confusion.
I finally got fed up with my own mental gymnastics. I decided right then and there, that evening, that I needed to do something concrete. My “practice,” if you wanna call it that, started with just telling myself the truth: I was tired of uncertainty. I needed clarity. This wasn’t some grand plan, just a simple internal shift. I stopped trying to predict their moves or decipher subtle clues. I decided to focus purely on what I wanted and needed.
My “Practice” Kicks In: Getting Real
The first actual step I took was to stop filling the silence. I’m usually the one who reaches out, sends the double text, tries to keep the conversation flowing. I just… stopped. It wasn’t a game; it was about seeing what naturally happened. Did they initiate? Did they even notice? It felt scary as hell, like I was putting everything on the line by doing nothing. But I held firm. I kept myself busy, pushed myself to go out with friends, picked up that book I’d been meaning to read. Diverted that energy I usually poured into analyzing them into my own life instead.
Then came the harder part. I knew I couldn’t just vanish and expect a resolution. I needed to actually communicate. I planned to have a real, sit-down conversation, no ambiguity allowed. This was tougher than just waiting around. I practiced what I wanted to say in my head, wrote down bullet points even. I wanted to express my feelings without blaming, to lay out my hopes and my frustrations, and to ask them directly what their intentions were. That took some serious courage for me, because I always hated confrontation. But July 2018 just had that vibe, you know? A feeling that it was time to put my cards on the table.
- Step One: Self-reflection and honest acknowledgment of my own exhaustion with the situation.
- Step Two: Deliberately stepping back from initiating contact, allowing space for the other person to act.
- Step Three: Preparing myself mentally for a direct and open conversation about the future of our “thing.”
The Immediate Aftermath: Unveiling What’s Ahead
When I finally got to have that talk, about a week or so after my balcony epiphany, it felt like a huge weight lifted, regardless of the outcome. I remember being super nervous. My hands were clammy, my voice almost shaky. But I pushed through it. I started by saying how much I valued them, but then explained that I needed more clarity, that the uncertainty was really getting to me. I asked them plainly, “What are we doing here? What do you see for us?”
Their response wasn’t exactly what I expected, but it was honest. They admitted they weren’t ready for what I was asking for, that they had their own stuff to sort out. It hurt, for sure. Hearing it out loud, that they couldn’t commit in the way I needed, was a blow. But there was also this strange sense of relief. The constant guessing game was over. The “what’s ahead” became clear in that moment: we weren’t going to be “that.” And that was okay. It wasn’t the love story I’d hoped for in that specific instance, but it was a truth.
The Long Game: My Personal Records
Looking back from here, years later, that July 2018 moment was a massive turning point. It wasn’t about finding “the one” in that exact second. It was about finding my own voice and setting boundaries. After that conversation, I felt a kind of freedom I hadn’t realized I was missing. I grieved the loss of that potential, yeah, but I also felt empowered.
My “records” from that time aren’t written down in a journal, but etched into my memory. That period taught me to trust my gut, to speak up for what I need, and to not waste my time or energy on things that weren’t moving forward. It taught me that clarity, even when it’s painful, is always better than lingering uncertainty. It helped me understand that “love” isn’t just about finding someone; it’s also deeply about respecting yourself enough to demand what you deserve.
In the months that followed that July, I poured even more into myself. I got better at recognizing red flags, at saying “no” to situations that didn’t serve me, and at being okay with being single while I figured things out. It wasn’t an immediate magical fix, but that summer of 2018 truly marked the beginning of a different approach to relationships for me. It was messy, it was a little heartbreaking, but it was real. And in the long run, it prepared me for the actual solid relationships that came into my life later. It showed me what “ahead” really meant for me – a path where I prioritized my peace and my truth.
