Why I Don’t Chase People Anymore

Because peace isn't found in pursuit—it's found in presence.

There was a time I made a habit of holding things together.
Conversations. Connections. Whole relationships.
Even when they wobbled. Even when I was the only one putting in the effort.
Even when it meant losing pieces of myself just to keep someone else close.

I didn’t call it chasing then.
I called it love.
Loyalty.
Commitment.
Christlike patience.

But now, I know better.

Now, I know what it feels like to love someone and still feel completely alone.
To show up fully and only be met halfway.
To offer your heart and get silence in return.
To keep giving chances to people who never asked how much it was costing you.

I’ve carried the weight of one-sided relationships long enough to know what they do to your soul.
They make you doubt your worth.
They make you question if you’re too much.
Or not enough.
They exhaust your spirit with every unanswered text, every broken plan, every moment you feel invisible in someone else’s life.

After my husband passed, I lost my tolerance for pretending.

Grief stripped me of my emotional performance.
It quieted the part of me that needed approval.
It exposed the imbalance in my relationships — the ones where I did all the work, made all the effort, and held all the emotional weight.

I saw with clear eyes that some people liked the version of me who didn’t ask for anything.
The easy version. The self-sacrificing version.
The one who didn’t name her needs.
The one who was always available.
Always understanding.
Always strong.

But I’m not that person anymore.
And honestly, I never really was.

I was just afraid that if I stopped chasing, they’d stop caring.
But the truth is: if they really cared, I wouldn’t have had to chase them at all.

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I don’t chase people anymore.

Not because I’ve stopped loving them.
But because I’ve started loving myself.

I’ve stopped showing up for people who never asked how I’m doing.
I’ve stopped explaining myself to those who never really listened.
I’ve stopped proving my worth in places that only saw me as convenient.

I don’t chase because I now understand:
Connection is mutual.
Consistency is love in action.
And love that must be chased is not love — it’s longing.

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I know now that healthy relationships are not a performance.
They are a partnership.
They flow both ways — not one person carrying it while the other passively benefits.
They don’t punish honesty.
They don’t make you feel like you’re too heavy or too needy for having emotions.
They hold space.
They hold you.

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Scripture Reminders:

“Let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.’” — Matthew 5:37 (NIV)
Love doesn’t leave you guessing. It brings clarity, not confusion.

“Two are better than one… If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” — Ecclesiastes 4:9–10 (NIV)
Mutuality is the foundation of friendship and connection.

“As far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” — Romans 12:18 (NIV)
Peace doesn’t always mean staying. Sometimes, it means releasing what hurts you.

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If you’re tired, you’re allowed to be.
If you’ve been carrying too much, you’re allowed to set it down.
You don’t have to keep reaching for people who keep letting you go.

You are not difficult for needing reciprocity.
You are not “too much” for wanting to feel valued.
You are not broken for finally protecting your peace.

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I don’t chase people anymore.

I listen for who’s showing up.
Not just in words — but in presence.
In follow-through. In compassion. In effort.

I choose peace over performance.
Boundaries over burnout.
Clarity over confusion.

Because I’ve learned the sacred truth:
Love doesn’t have to be earned.
And the right people don’t need to be chased —
They stay.

And when they do,
You’ll know.
Not because they said it —
But because they showed it.

And that kind of love?
It’s not exhausting.
It’s home.