is this maturity or just detachment?

Every little thing had a way of getting under my skin.

Sometimes I wonder if I am growing up or if I am just growing away. Every word from someone I loved felt like it had been carved into me.

If someone was upset with me, I couldn’t sleep.

If something went wrong, my mind wouldn’t stop replaying it.

If someone was upset with me, my chest would tighten for days.

If I disappointed someone, I would carry that shame like a heavy coat I couldn’t take off.

I thought feeling so much was proof that I was alive and cared deeply. That my love was real.

But over time, something in me started to shift.

I noticed that I didn’t react the way I used to.

I didn’t chase every misunderstanding or explain myself to people who were determined not to see me clearly. I started to stand back from situations that drained me.

For a while, I thought something was wrong with me. I thought I was becoming cold. Detached. Maybe even broken.

Some days, this feels like peace. Other days, it feels like a loneliness I can’t explain.

I don’t have a clear answer to my question. I don’t know if this is maturity or detachment. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s what happens when you love and lose and still choose to keep living with an open heart even if you don’t show it on your face anymore.

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If you’re reading this now, wondering the same thing about yourself, I want you to know you are not alone in this.

There will be seasons in your life when you feel less attached to all the noise. The chaos. The endless proving.

You will wonder if you’ve lost your heart. You will miss the version of you who used to show up for everything and everyone, no matter what it cost you.

Let me tell you : nothing is wrong with you.

This is what growing up feels like.

You learn that caring doesn’t have to mean crumbling.

You learn that love can be steady and quiet instead of desperate and loud.

You learn that you can still wish people well, even if you no longer have them in your life.

If you’re sitting there wondering whether you’re becoming indifferent, try asking yourself this:

Is this peace or is this numbness?

When it’s peace, it feels light. Like a quiet acceptance. You know you’re doing your best and you trust that’s enough. You don’t need to keep proving your worth to anyone.

When it’s numbness, it feels empty. Like you’re watching your own life from far away, unable to reach out and touch it.

Neither one is wrong. Both are part of healing. Both are part of figuring out how to be a person in this world without letting it swallow you whole.

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I still have days when I miss my old self. I remember I used to feel everything so vividly, how I used to stay up all night replaying conversations, planning how to make things right. There was something innocent in that, something beautifully naive.

But I also know now that I can’t keep living that way.

You can’t either.

You can’t always carry everyone’s feelings on your back. You can’t always be the one who tries the hardest.

So if you’re starting to pull back, if you’re learning to hold your heart closer to your chest, don’t shame yourself for it.

You haven’t become hard. You haven’t stopped caring.

You’ve just learned that you are allowed to protect your energy. You are allowed to choose yourself.

This is what I’ve discovered :

Maturity doesn’t mean you never feel hurt or disappointed. It means you don’t let every hurt drag you under. It means you can feel sadness or frustration without letting it define you.

It means you know when to walk away. When to stay silent. When to keep your love inside instead of offering it to people who won’t value it.

If you are here, in this in-between place, wondering if you’ve lost something essential, please remember that your heart is still yours. It still cares. It still hopes.

You are not cold. You are not detached beyond repair.

You are just learning a new way to be.

And that is nothing to feel guilty about. That is something to honor.

Be gentle with yourself. You’re doing better than you think.

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