A woman senses when love becomes ordinary. She feels the dullness in gestures, the routine in words, the absence of spark in presence. Her spirit knows when passion no longer glows, and her heart begins to carry the weight of that quiet settling.
She remembers the beginning, when love was extraordinary. Every word carried wonder, every gesture carried devotion, every presence carried magic. She believed her bond was alive, because closeness was vibrant.
A woman senses when love becomes ordinary.
She notices the change when love grew ordinary. The listening weakened, the recognition disappeared, the devotion grew inconsistent. What once felt like sanctuary began to feel like repetition, and her spirit began to ache under the weight of monotony.
She learns that ordinary love is not devotion—it is erosion. Erosion of trust, erosion of intimacy, erosion of connection. She realizes that love cannot survive where wonder is missing, and intimacy cannot thrive where care is dulled.
She sees that sensing when love becomes ordinary is not weakness—it is awareness. Awareness that tells her when love is fading, awareness that teaches her to protect herself, awareness that reminds her that her worth is not measured by routine.
She remembers how her spirit felt when love was alive. Light, calm, safe, and whole. She felt alive in her devotion, because her devotion was met with recognition.
She notices how her spirit felt when love was ordinary. Heavy, restless, unseen, and painfully alone. She felt drained in her devotion, because her devotion was met with indifference.
She learns that awareness is not failure—it is strength. Strength that allows her to carry herself with grace, strength that allows her to protect her heart, strength that allows her to survive.
She sees that sensing when love becomes ordinary is not surrender—it is preservation. Preservation of her dignity, preservation of her spirit, preservation of her peace.
She remembers that her silence is not emptiness—it is wisdom. Wisdom that tells her when to step back, wisdom that teaches her to protect her spirit, wisdom that reminds her that her peace matters more than her pain.
She notices that her pain was not the end—it was the turning point. The moment she realized that fading devotion was not temporary—it was permanent. And she chose to honor that truth.
She learns that protecting her peace is not cruelty—it is preservation. Preservation of her dignity, preservation of her spirit, preservation of her worth.
She sees that her journey was not weakness—it was strength. Strength to give, strength to hope, strength to believe. And strength to finally stop waiting for wonder that never returned.
She remembers that healing is not instant—it is gradual. Gradual in the way she rebuilds her boundaries, gradual in the way she restores her peace, gradual in the way she honors her worth.
She notices that her love is not gone—it is redirected. Redirected toward herself, redirected toward her peace, redirected toward her future.
She learns that ordinary love is not devastation—it is revelation. Revelation that shows her what is fading, revelation that teaches her what is real, revelation that reminds her that her love is sacred.
She sees that her strength is not in holding on—it is in letting go. Letting go of what does not change, letting go of what does not grow, letting go of what does not honor her.
She remembers that her journey is not weakness—it is proof of her resilience. Proof that she can love deeply, proof that she can hope fully, proof that she can rise even when overlooked.
She notices that her spirit is not broken—it is awakening. Awakening to truth, awakening to clarity, awakening to self‑respect.
She learns that love must be mutual, effort must be shared, and wonder must be cherished. Anything less is not love—it is erosion.
She sees that her silence is not defeat—it is her shield. A shield that keeps her safe, a shield that honors her worth, a shield that reminds her that her peace is sacred.
She remembers that her pain was not the end—it was the turning point. The moment she realized that sensing love grow ordinary was not her burden—it was her awakening.
She notices that her healing is not about forgetting—it is about remembering. Remembering her worth, remembering her strength, remembering her truth.
She learns that her love must begin with herself. She cannot pour endlessly into emptiness, she cannot wait endlessly in silence, she cannot hope endlessly without change.
She sees that her journey is not about loss—it is about clarity. Clarity that shows her what she deserves, clarity that reveals what she must protect, clarity that reminds her that her love is sacred.
She remembers that her silence once protected her, but now her voice will free her. Free her from cycles, free her from neglect, free her from pain disguised as love.
She notices that her strength is not in carrying—it is in releasing. Releasing what breaks her, releasing what drains her, releasing what no longer honors her.
She learns that sensing when love becomes ordinary is not emptiness—it is wisdom. Wisdom that tells her when to step back, wisdom that teaches her to protect her spirit, wisdom that reminds her that her worth is not measured by neglect.
She sees that her awareness is her strength. Strength that tells her when to step back, strength that teaches her to protect her spirit, strength that reminds her that her worth is not measured by someone else’s attention.
She remembers that her journey is not failure—it is awakening. Awakening to truth, awakening to clarity, awakening to self‑respect.
She notices that her spirit is strong, her love is sacred, and her peace is worth protecting. She knows that even though she sensed when love became ordinary, she will always sense when love is true.
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About the Author
Good beautiful Tuesday morning, Dear Johnny. It took me a bit to read this passage, because my mind drifted back to my own parents’ marriage They loved each other’s fiercely. But, at one point, I was their individual therapist. In my 20s, each would come to me to discuss the other. I, the youngest child, could see both sides. And, I didn’t know how to tell them I am not a shrink,nor did I know how to tell them I felt caught in the middle. I just listened. Never did I tell them what the other told me. I stayed silent with their Co finances. Now, 30 or so years later, I can finance appreciate their individual trust.. .in me. In the end, they stayed together til death did they part. Daddy died the day before his 60th birthday. Mama Bear, 25 years thereafter. They loved each other’s no matter what. Daddy stopped drinking in his 40s. My parents stayed together because their love, their passion for each other’s, and by learning from their mistakes. I’ve always wanted a love like Fermin and Gen. I went as far as writing s song for them. But, that comes once in a lifetime. If you’re lucky….or blessed, or whatever. For some…. I know that theirs’ was a once in a century love. But, they taught me a lot. They taught me generosity, love, compassion, kindness and above all, they taught me steadfast strength. My Excalibur sword is sheathed on my back for now….my shield is resting on the collar of my armor. I think perhaps now, I can remove some of the armor. Keep the gauntlets, shin guards and cumbersome metal shoes. It is hard to battle with gloves, they go, too.Keep the sword and shield out of…..habit? Some sense of some type of security? I have finally grown comfortable in my own beautiful cinnamon shin. I learned to love me first. To care for my Self first. Because if I’m broken, how the hell can I be there for anyone else? I shall leave you with this, something my dear friend m, Sonny C told me on my worst day sober;
“Life is good no matter what, and everything IS ok. Not it’s gonna be ok, it IS ok.
One more from my Daddy:
“Don’t let the bastards get you down……
……..shoot the sombitch…….🤣🤣🤣
Thank you, Dear Johnny. Tons of love and infinite blessings always💜💜💜