Goodbye Boys. Hello Peace.

I had a dream about a week before writing this. I went back and forth about sharing it, but it hasn’t left me — and I think it matters.

In the dream, I was standing at the edge of the water at sunset. The ocean was calm and glowing. In front of me was a boat — and one by one, men from my past were boarding the boat. Not every guy I ever spoke to. Just the ones who left a mark. The ones I loved. The ones who confused me. The ones I trusted. The ones who cracked things in me — or woke things up.

The message was loud and clear:

It’s time to let them go.

Not as friends.

Not as “maybe one day.”

Not as old comfort.

Not as unfinished stories.

Gone.

Because each one — in their own way — held pieces of my heart, my trust, or my admiration… and broke them. Some shattered me with betrayal. Some treated me like I was disposable. Some kept me emotionally hostage to a past version of myself while I was trying to turn corners and heal. And one in particular turned me inside out trying to earn a love that was never really mine — then walked away as if I were nothing. Others floated in and out of my life just enough to keep me hoping.

And here’s the part that took me the longest to face:

They couldn’t have done that if I hadn’t allowed it.

After my divorce, I was starved for connection — trying to fill the empty spaces in me with attention, closeness, or anything that felt like relief. And I called those crumbs “enough.” I hid how deeply I wanted something real because I learned it scared men away. So I pretended casual was fine. Pretended I didn’t care. Pretended I was cool with being “almost.”

Fast-forward to now…

I’m not that girl anymore.

I don’t relate to her.

I don’t understand why she tolerated what she did.

I don’t recognize the woman who let men drift back in just because history felt familiar.

Surface-level connection actually turns my stomach now.

And I don’t want anyone from my past coming back with nostalgia, check-ins, or late-night confessions that they “still think of me.” For years I saw that as validation — proof that I mattered.

Now I see it as unfinished people circling unfinished business.

But I am finished.

Growth is strange like that. When you heal, you shed skins. And the people who met you in your unhealed places don’t always recognize — or fit — the woman you become. It doesn’t make them villains. It just means the version of me they knew doesn’t exist anymore, and I won’t shrink myself back down to keep familiar company.

I don’t want to lead anyone on.

I don’t want to repeat old patterns.

I don’t want to confuse anyone — including myself.

As this new year approaches, I’m closing the door — fully — on any man from my past who wasn’t able to meet me with honesty, care, or respect. If the connection left me doubting myself, confused, or diminished, I’m no longer carrying it with me. I don’t need answers. I don’t need closure. I’m simply choosing peace — because backward energy doesn’t belong in a forward-moving life.

So I think back to that dream — that boat drifting away — and I wave.

Not bitter.

Not angry.

Just done.

And if you’re a woman reading this who is tired — tired of the “almost,” the confusion, the casual offers disguised as connection — hear me:

Stop trying to be chosen.

Stop settling for men who benefit from your hope.

Turn inward. Do the work. Heal the part of you that thought this was the best you could receive.

I’ve never been more calm or grounded about what I want — and what I refuse. And because I am not the same woman spiritually or emotionally, there is absolutely no reason to entertain my past.

It’s time for new.

It’s time for peace.

It’s time to stand taller — not smaller — in the life God is rebuilding in me.

So this is my farewell — to the shattered pieces, to the old versions of me, to every man who taught me what I don’t want. I don’t want the broken pieces back. I don’t want the story redone.

I want new.

Here’s to another level up.

Here’s to 2026.

Here’s to goodbye — and finally meaning it.