How to end

A real conversation about recognising endings and choosing yourself

In our last post, we talked about change. This time, I want to talk about something harder — the moment you realise something in your life is actually over. Not because you want it to be, but because staying is slowly draining the life out of you.

Every ending comes with loss. Even the endings we choose. Even the ones that are “for the best.” There’s always something to release, something to grieve, something that hurts.

We like to pretend we’re fine. We tell ourselves to push through. But deep down, we know when something isn’t right anymore. The signs show up long before we’re ready to admit them: the constant unhappiness, the anxiety that won’t leave, the stress that sits in your chest, the feeling that you’re shrinking instead of growing. These aren’t random moods. They’re signals. They’re your body saying, This isn’t working.

And when you’ve tried — really tried — to fix it, to talk it out, to make it better… and nothing changes?

That’s the truth you can’t ignore.

That’s the moment the ending has already begun.

Endings leave a space behind. Sometimes it feels like a punch to the stomach. Sometimes it’s a quiet ache. Sometimes it’s both. But before you rush to fill that space with something new, there’s a moment where you have to face yourself honestly. No pretending. No excuses. Just you and the truth.

Endings force us to stop. To look at what we’ve been carrying. To admit what’s been hurting. And in that pause, that uncomfortable, messy pause, something inside us shifts. We see what we’ve tolerated. We see what we’ve outgrown. We see the strength we didn’t know we had.

This is where hope shows up. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a small, steady light that says, You don’t have to stay here.   Letting go isn’t about being fearless. It’s about being brave enough to choose yourself, even when your voice shakes. It’s about trusting that you’re stronger than the story you’ve been told about yourself. It’s about believing that something better is possible, even if you can’t picture it yet.

Not every ending is a disaster. Not every ending is a heartbreak. But every ending creates space — and that space is powerful. That space is where new things can finally reach you. New paths. New people. New chances. New versions of you that you haven’t met yet.

Sometimes the bravest thing you’ll ever do is look at your life and say,

“This isn’t it. I deserve more.”  

And then take the first step toward something new.