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I used to believe in “The One.”

It’s magical, isn’t it? The idea that love can be so destined, so cosmic, that we are bound together by fate—the soulmate who would show up at just the right time, love me perfectly, and walk beside me through every chapter of my life.

I clung to that idea because it felt so comforting. So romantic. So right.

And honestly, I still believe in the magic of that idea—just not in the way I used to.

We grow up with stories that tell us there’s one person out there meant just for us. Fairy tales, movies, poems—they all whisper the same promise: that love, real love, is forever. That once you find your person, everything falls into place.

It’s beautiful. It gives us hope. And it’s okay to want that.

That belief—though powerful—is also something we must hold with a gentle hand.

Believing in “The One” is not the problem, and I don’t want us to lose that magic.

But there is another layer to this story, one that invites us to release the pressure of needing to find only one person to fulfill us completely. 

And this is where it becomes important to hold both perspectives gently. 

Here’s what life—and love—taught me: sometimes “The One” isn’t just one person. Sometimes, they don’t stay forever.

And that doesn’t make the love any less real.

The One doesn’t have to be a singular person—it can be a series of people who come into our lives at different points in time or even the same person in different stages of our lives. Sometimes, we meet the person who may feel like “The One” at a certain time, and we build something deep and beautiful with them only to find that we grew in different directions.

For me, it took a devasting heartbreak to realize that love can be both magical and temporary. That someone can be your whole world for a season and still not be your forever.

And that’s okay. Sometimes, love is meant to help you grow—and then let you go.

So, what if we stopped seeing breakups as failures? What if, instead, they’re invitations—powerful opportunities for growth, healing, and personal evolution?

Because sometimes, devastation is needed before creation. Sometimes, it’s the breaking apart that makes space for something more aligned, more authentic, more you.

And when we begin to see breakups this way—not as endings, but as sacred turning points—we free ourselves. We let go of the need for one perfect love story, and instead, open our hearts to the many forms love can take.

It’s this softening, this surrender, that opens us up to the mystery and magic of love in all its forms.

Reframing the Fairy Tale

I don’t think we need to stop believing in soulmates. I just think we need to hold that belief with more tenderness, more openness—less of a grip, and more of a expansive trust.

We all want to believe in the magic of meeting the one. The sense that there’s a person out there with whom we share a deep, soul-level connection, and the idea that they might be waiting for us in the future—or perhaps we’ve already met them. That belief keeps us hopeful and open to the possibility of real, true love. It gives us the courage to open our hearts fully, trusting that someone out there will see us in ways no one else can. And even if we’ve had our heart broken, the magic persists—the hope that love is worth the wait and worth the risk.

The truth is, love doesn’t always come wrapped in forever. Sometimes, it arrives just long enough to shift something inside us. To reflect something we weren’t ready to see. To stretch our hearts open.

When we hold these beliefs gently, we can allow them to guide us without attaching our entire sense of self-worth to the idea of finding that one person.

And when life unravels—when we go through a tragic breakup or a painful divorce—we might not suffer quite as deeply. We’re still heartbroken, yes, but there’s a little more space, a little more breath.

We understand that the ending of a relationship doesn’t mean the ending of us. It allows us to loosen our grip, to detach just enough to see the bigger picture: that love can be real and meaningful, even if it’s not forever.

Ultimately, here’s the paradox we need to embrace: the ending of a relationship isn’t a failure or a loss of love; it’s a transformation. It’s not a closing of love but a shift in how it continues—through personal growth, healing, and self-discovery.

Love doesn’t end when a relationship ends; it simply changes form, often turning inward so we can evolve into the next version of ourselves.

The myth of “The One” can be freeing in that way. It allows us to let go of the pressure of finding that one soulmate who will fulfill all of our needs and expectations.

Instead, it invites us to look at love as a process—one that is dynamic and ever-changing.

Perhaps there is no single person who can be “The One” forever, but there are many people who will touch your heart in different ways at different times.

I’ve come to believe that breakups—while deeply painful—are indeed pivotal soul shifts.

The magic isn’t just in meeting “the one.” It’s in every connection that shapes us—the lessons they leave behind, the ways they stretch us, and the evolution they spark within.

Some of the deepest growth I’ve ever experienced came after love ended. And while I wouldn’t have chosen the heartbreak, I can now see the hidden gifts it gave me.

7 Ways Breakups Have Changed Me (and Maybe You Too)

There was a moment, after one of my breakups, when I stood in my house surrounded by boxes and silence and thought, “Now what?” I felt hollow. Untethered. Like I’d lost my anchor.

But slowly, piece by piece, I realized I hadn’t lost myself—I was just finding her again. And here’s what I’ve learned along the way:

1. I Found Myself Again

I started remembering the woman I was before the relationship—the one who danced in the kitchen, who stayed up late writing, who made spontaneous plans just because she could.

2. I Got Emotionally Stronger

I cried, a lot. I journaled until the pen ran dry. And through that, I built resilience I never knew I had. Grief cracked me open, but healing made me whole.

3. I Reclaimed My Independence

I realized I could create a life that felt full, even on my own. That solitude could be empowering, not lonely. I became my own safe space.

4. I Learned Big Lessons

Every relationship has taught me something—about communication, boundaries, forgiveness, desire, self-worth. Love has been one of my greatest teachers.

5. I Deepened My Friendships

Breakups reminded me who my real people were—the ones who showed up with wine, hugs, or just silence when I needed it most. I leaned on my village, and it held me.

6. I Took Back My Power

Instead of waiting for someone else to shape my future, I began shaping it myself. I asked: What do I want now? And that question changed everything.

7. I Fell In Love With Me

I stopped trying to be lovable and started loving myself. Not in a cliché way—in a real, messy, everyday way. Through boundaries. Through grace. Through honoring what I need.

Letting Both Truths Exist

In the end, the beauty of holding these beliefs gently is that it frees us from the need for certainty and opens us up to the mystery and magic of love in all its forms. We don’t have to choose between believing in the magic of “The One” and accepting that relationships evolve and sometimes end.

What if we simply expanded our definition of love?

We can believe that love, in all its shapes and forms, is worth embracing and that every relationship is part of our beautiful, ever-changing story.

By holding both these truths softly, we can navigate relationships with more grace. We can believe in the idea of “The One” without clinging to it as the only way love should look like, acknowledging that love doesn’t always fit into one neat, fixed package.

We can see that love is both magical and practical, fleeting and permanent, all at once.

We can have “The One” and then outgrow that person or rediscover new versions of them as we grow, evolving our relationship together.

And if the relationship ends, we don’t lose the magic of love. Instead, we learn to cherish the lesson, honor the love that once was, and open ourselves to the possibility of meeting new people who can offer us new insights, new experiences, and yes, new versions of love, both in relationships and in ourselves.

We can trust that we are constantly evolving, that our relationships will evolve with us, and that the right connections—whether with the same person or with new people—will continue to guide us to our favorite versions of ourselves.

So, let’s hold both truths gently: yes, there may be a soulmate out there for us, but we are also evolving in ways that will make us even more aligned with the kind of love we truly deserve. 

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