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Running on Empty: The Cost of Giving Without Receiving

Let me be clear: I am exhausted. Not just tired, not just drained, but hollowed out. This isn’t the kind of fatigue that a nap, a spa day, or a self-help book can fix. It’s the kind that settles into your bones, that turns every breath into labor, that makes existing feel like a full-time job with no benefits and no paid time off.

For years, I built something I believed in—something I poured my soul into. My marriage, my home, my life’s foundation. I didn’t just show up for it; I curated it with intention. I chose every detail with care, tended to it with love, and believed with everything in me that the effort would mean something. That it would be worth it.

But effort means nothing when you’re the only one making it.

I thought we were both working on this masterpiece, this life we built. But one day, he put down his tools and walked away, leaving me to hold up the weight of it alone. And like a fool, I stayed. I kept watering a garden that no longer had two caretakers. I worked twice as hard, thinking maybe—just maybe—he’d come back. That he’d see my devotion, that he’d remember what we built together, and that he’d pick up where he left off.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned his back on it all, stepped into someone else’s life like our years together were just a warm-up act for his next show. And I was left standing in the wreckage of something that was supposed to be permanent.

Love That Was Never Meant to Be Temporary

Marriage, to me, was never just about legalities. It wasn’t just a piece of paper. It was a sacred bond, a promise that wasn’t meant to be broken. I never believed in remarriage because, in my faith, in my heart, love isn’t something you replace. It’s not a lease you renew when it’s convenient. It’s supposed to be forever.

And maybe that’s why I let myself believe I could still find companionship in some way—that I could have space for something new while still honoring what was. That I could find someone who understood that my heart was already carved in a way that couldn’t be undone, and they could accept that.

But then the divorce papers came. Messily put together, but their weight was devastatingly clear. It wasn’t just an end—it was a forced erasure of everything I held sacred. It took away any space for a future with someone else because, suddenly, the idea of love felt like a scam. Like an illusion I was stupid enough to fall for once, but never again.

A World of Villains

I have been lied to, manipulated, gaslit, discarded, and treated like an afterthought in my own story. And maybe people don’t think of themselves as villains. Maybe in their own minds, they’re justified, misunderstood, doing what’s best for them. But at this point, I don’t care about perspectives.

Because in my world? Everyone wears villain’s clothing now.

I used to believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt. I used to believe that love, in all its forms, was worth the risk. But now? Now I believe in self-preservation. Because I have been used, taken advantage of, assaulted, diminished, and stripped of my worth.

And after all that, I just can’t afford to let another person get close enough to do more damage.

Choosing Solitude

So I’ve made my choice. I am closing the book on everything I thought my life would be. The first 43 years of my life are done, sealed off, buried. Because after everything, I don’t see another option that doesn’t end with me being completely shattered.

I have no hand to hold when the nights are too long. No steady support when I’m too tired to keep standing. No one—romantically or platonically—who is truly there without expectation, without condition.

So I am choosing solitude. Maybe just for a while. Maybe forever.

I still believe in connection, but not in the way I used to. Not in the way that requires me to hand over pieces of myself just to be left with nothing. Now, connection will have to be through a screen, through words instead of presence. Cold. Distant. Impersonal.

Because that’s all I can afford to give.

I was not meant for boxes
I was designed to shine
I am Dusty Ray
I am not disposable
I am not silicone
I am human
I am flesh
I am blood
I am purpose
I am divine 
And I will be seen

-Dusty Ray 

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The content provided in this blog post is for informational purposes only and does not constitute legal, religious, or professional advice. The views expressed are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of any religious organization, institution, or governing body.

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This blog post contains interpretations and summaries of various religious, philosophical, and scientific concepts. While efforts have been made to present information accurately, readers are encouraged to consult primary sources and authoritative texts for a comprehensive understanding of the topics discussed.

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Due to the nature of the content, which draws from various religious texts, scientific studies, and philosophical concepts, specific citations have not been provided within the text. Readers interested in further exploration of the topics mentioned are advised to consult reputable sources in religious studies, philosophy, and scientific literature.

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