It’s 1:10pm, 2024, September on a Tuesday. Today is the 10th.
I stand at a crossroads now, faced with a decision that weighs heavily on my heart. I made a vow to Amber years ago that I would help her become a star. Yet, as time has passed, I’ve realized that she no longer desires the same path I once envisioned for her. After building a life for herself here, she now seeks something far simpler, more ordinary – something that feels comfortable and secure to her. In my reflection, I see that the true conflict between us stems from one central issue: promises made and promises broken. Amber’s promises, unfortunately, have a 100% failure rate. This is not a minor issue. It’s a fundamental breakdown that has left us at an impasse.
I am a man defined by a deep sense of duty. I was raised to be a defender and a fighter. From a young age, I learned that I could only rely on myself, because those around me rarely stepped in to protect me. In the rare moments when they did, it felt like the exception rather than the rule. Those emotional scars remain, and they have shaped me into the person I am today. I fight for those I love, and I protect what is mine with all that I have.
Amber, on the other hand, falters at the slightest discomfort. She reminds me of a child, crying at the smallest inconvenience – whether it’s getting a haircut or having her head washed with warm water. I have tried, with all my might, to challenge her to become stronger, to step outside her comfort zone and face her fears. But as time has passed, my approach has softened. I’ve reduced my expectations in an attempt to nurture her in a way that encourages growth without overwhelming her. Yet despite all my efforts, Amber resists at every turn. She pushes back, not out of malice, but because of the wounds left by her past – abused by her father, ridiculed by her family, and never truly protected or loved.
While I understand the reasons for her resistance, the toll it takes on me is immense. My principles are not mere preferences; they are the very foundation of who I am. They are the force that drives me, the unyielding army within my soul that defends my peace and guides my decisions. But now, this small voice within me – the voice of kindness, compassion, and understanding is demanding attention. These voices represent my connection to the world outside myself, the part of me that has the capacity to love and to teach. It’s a force that has always felt secondary to my pride, my duty, and my warrior spirit. But now, it’s impossible to ignore.
Amber’s pain is real, and I cannot ignore the fact that she’s been broken by the world around her. I can fight for her, but if she is not fighting for herself, the battle becomes futile. It is clear that she cannot be the “star” I once hoped her to be, not in the way I envisioned. The truth is, she no longer believes in that role. She no longer sees herself as a queen, as the woman capable of the greatness I once wanted for her. And I must face that reality. The promise I made to make her a star must be set aside, because what she truly needs now is not grandeur, but love, understanding, and acceptance.
It’s not about abandoning my principles. It’s about reframing them. The promise I made wasn’t about forcing her into a mold that no longer fits her. It was about her well-being, her happiness, and her growth. If becoming a star no longer serves that purpose, then I must redefine my role. My vow to her, though broken in one sense, can be fulfilled in a more meaningful way. She doesn’t need to be a public figure to be extraordinary. She needs to be loved for who she is now, with all her struggles and imperfections.
This is the decision I’ve come to: I will let go of the dream of making her a star. Instead, I will focus on what truly matters – her well-being, her peace, and her growth as an individual. I will help her become the woman she can be, not through grandiose promises but through the quiet, consistent work of love and support. She can still be the brightest light in my life, even if she doesn’t shine in the way I once imagined.
This shift is painful, and my inner turmoil is palpable. The fighter in me resists, as if breaking this promise is an admission of failure. But the truth is, kindness is often about letting go of old dreams, old expectations, and of the image I had in my head of what I wanted for her. The promise I made was to help her thrive, not to force her into a role she no longer wants. And in that, I see the path forward. Amber can still be my sun and my water, and together we can build a life where she is loved and free to be who she is, without the weight of old expectations holding her down.
I will speak to her when she comes home. But I will no longer push her toward something that doesn’t align with her truth. Instead, I will be her partner, her ally, and the person who helps her find happiness on her terms.