Letting Go: How To Heal From "Goodbye"

This was a mom-heavy week, the kind where I watched my children and students wrestle with emotional growth, self-awareness, personal boundaries, heartbreak and healing. The editing process on STILL FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM is dragging slowly along...but behind the scenes, my non-fiction world is full of coaching moments on the value of self-respect, knowing your worth, and recognizing the right time to walk away. It's never easy to set boundaries with toxic friends, especially when you're young and all you want is to feel seen and accepted—but setting boundaries and recognizing patterns is the key to protecting your peace, even when it means losing a friend or learning how to heal from rejection. And honestly, I can't even say how deeply I wish someone had taught me those lessons when I was their age.

My daughters and students range from fourteen to twenty-one, and as I've watched them struggle to maintain peace in their various relationships this week, I've found myself sharing and reflecting on my own turning points—the moments when doors closed, truths clicked, and people I once loved showed me who they really were. Because the truth is, the idea that "hurt people hurt people" is a cop-out, and sometimes, what you really need to ask yourself is, "What do I stand for? And who's standing with me?"

I knew about toxic relationships before they became a catch-phrase; pain is easily recognized, whether it's physical or emotional. What I didn't know was how to recognize the emotional exhaustion of intentionally healing from toxic people, or what to do when a friend turns on you. What I didn't know was that when friends hurt you repeatedly, they're no longer friends. What I didn't know was that choosing yourself is okay and moving on with grace is often the only closure after betrayal. Because there's freedom in forgiveness.

My first experience with friendship betrayal was when my best friend and I liked the same boy in middle school. We agreed on a philosophy of "may the best woman win," right up until he chose me—and my friend instantly turned her back on me. Heartbroken, I crossed paths with her at school every day, each time hoping things would be better, that she might find a way to be as happy for me as I would have been for her. Each time shattered by the weight of a silent glare or haughty dismissal. Later, when she dated that same boy, I supported her relationship in every way. Because friendship means celebrating their win, even if you wanted it.

The most painful experience I've ever had with learning to get go of unhealthy people was when I ended my relationship with my father. His chronic anger and ongoing bitterness toward women were easy enough to understand because I knew so much of his story; for him, misogyny was a trauma response rather than a way of life. But when I became a woman myself and had that bitterness poured over me like buckets of toxic slop, I learned the power of walking away from pain I didn't cause, the necessity of learning to say no in relationships, and the power of healing after cutting someone off. Because every party in every relationship deserves the dignity of respect.

One day when my youngest daughter was little, she came home from school sobbing. She told me her "friend" was always mean to her. Calling her names. Making hurtful jokes. Telling other kids not to play with her. She was so hurt, and so confused. I held her close and told her that a mean person at school is NOT a friend, but she tearfully insisted that this other child WAS her friend because her teacher taught that every student was a "friend." I began to teach her more intentionally about healthy relationships and how to recognize when a friendship is emotionally unhealthy...because friendship should feel like a covering shield, rather than a cutting sword.

Those painful memories have become core parts of both who I am as a friend and what I require from the friendships I invest in—and looking back in order to share them with the young people in my life makes me even more grateful for the friends I have now. Those early experiences taught me how to grieve a friendship breakup and how to recognize relationship red flags, paving the way to new people who showed me how to set healthy boundaries, not to control someone else's behavior, but to outline my own value and my planned response to having that value attacked. The contrast between the two helped me accept that whether it’s a friend, a mentor, a parent, or a partner, when someone you trust hurts you rather than helping you, it’s okay to walk away.

Sure, there’s heartbreak in outgrowing people or relationships you love, but there’s freedom and strength in knowing that loyalty doesn’t mean tolerating pain, and the beauty of growth is that it reshapes our definition of friendship. It teaches us that love should feel like safety, not confusion. It reminds us that protecting our peace isn’t selfish, and that sometimes walking away is wisdom—not weakness. I still believe in second chances, grace, humility, and honest repair, but I’ve also learned not to chase closure from people who can't (or won't) see the good in me. And I'm making peace with the fact that not every relationship is meant to last forever.

Because real friendship isn't about proving your worth. It’s about choosing the people who saw it all along.

*****

And speaking of fighting fiercely for what’s worth it, this week marks the re-release of FIGHTING FOR FREEDOM, the first book in the Freedom Series—and from now until May 15th, you can grab your copy for 40% off!

Christine's story is hope for recovery if you’ve ever loved someone who didn’t know how to love you back. It's a promise of growth and encouragement if you've ever had to salvage scraps of self-worth from the rubble of a toxic relationship. It's compassion for survivors of domestic abuse. And I hope it brings healing to anyone wrestling with the pain of starting over.

Because healing begins when we stop shrinking for the wrong people—and finally learn to...