My Loving Self-Protection Plan

On the love journey, there are generally two core areas of growth we're all being invited into. Two “camps,” if you will:

Camp 1:

The work of opening to love.

Learning how to trust it.

How to stay connected when fear, stress, or overwhelm rise.

How to loosen the grip of control so we don’t sabotage the very connections we long for.

How to find safety in closeness.

How to soften the heart, and quiet the judgmental mind.

How to stop scanning for flaws and instead focus on the light of the rare human standing before us.

Camp 2:

The work of loving self-protection.

If you’re in Camp 2, you likely have a big, open, deeply forgiving heart. You prioritize connection above most things in life. You’re not afraid of the hard work relationships require—you're willing to have the tough conversations, to stay present in the mess, to keep showing up. You're not afraid of the labor of love. What you are afraid of is disconnection. Which makes you a high-risk investor when it comes to matters of the heart.

When you feel chemistry, and possibility of a shared future, you go all in—offering your radiant love to people who haven’t yet earned access to your deepest preciousness. And in doing so, you over-invest in fragile connections, leaving yourself vulnerable to heartbreak, and having to learn the hard way, again.

If it isn’t already evident: I’m a Camp 2’er.

One of the biggest lessons I’m learning—through the unraveling of a recent relationship—is that all the compassion, encouragement, support, and prioritization I effortlessly extend to others is now mine to offer inward. It’s time to give myself the care and devotion I’ve so freely given away.

Which means protecting myself better—especially in those moments when my default is to pour out affection, sweetness, patience, gifts, and the endless benefit of the doubt to someone who’s on the fence about our relationship.

From the ashes of recent heartache, this is the new shape my loving self-protection is taking:

1. Giving will no longer be my default mode.

It will be something I offer gradually—once trust is built, reciprocity is evident, emotional clarity is shared, and we are on the same page about what we want and how we feel.

2. An anxious nervous system isn’t a “me” problem.

If I’m in a connection where my system is consistently dysregulated, that’s an us issue. And if my partner isn’t inspired to grow, to be more conscious, or to take responsibility for their impact—then that’s a wrap on the relationship. Because I will no longer white knuckle my way through chronic anxiety and call it love.

3. If I’m being judged more than I’m being appreciated—Houston, we have a problem.

Having different tendencies or worldviews is not an invitation for judgment. You cannot love someone and judge them at the same time. If I’m constantly being measured against someone else’s way of thinking and living as the “gold standard,” then I am not being seen or valued for who I am. That’s not partnership. That’s performance. And that’s also a wrap.

4. When the connection ends, so does the communication.

One of the most painful patterns I’ve upheld is trying to stay “friendly” with people who chose not to do the work to stay in relationship with me. If I get to a point where I am no longer hooked on the dream of that person, then sure, we can be casual homies. But if any part of me still loves them, still secretly hopes for a breakthrough or a reckoning—then I need hard, clean, no-contact. So I can heal. So I can move on.

This is my new standard.

This is how I protect my heart without closing it.

This is what it looks like to love myself enough to walk away when I’m not being met.

This is my loving self-protection plan—for all connections, from here on out.