Standing in the hallway

love, heartbreak, and a woman's worth

Author’s Note: This is a personal story about love, heartbreak, worthiness, and the moment I finally chose peace. The intention is to offer encouragement to anyone facing disappointment, heartbreak, or loss, wherever you are on the journey.

Have you ever stayed in a job—or a relationship—long past its expiration date?

I’ve done that a few times.

I don’t usually talk about this part of my story, but today I feel called to share.

I recently went through a long and painful breakup. It was never part of my plan. I truly believed I had found my forever soulmate. And for nearly twenty years, it was absolute adoration—on both sides.

Then one spring, things began to change.

I used to be cute and irresistible. 

Suddenly, I was treated like I was annoying.

Instead of devoted, he had become irritable, impatient, and withdrawn.

This man had always been a gentleman—a door-holder, thoughtful, chivalrous. When we were together, I felt safe and cared for. But that version of him seemed to be disappearing, and it didn’t make sense.

I remember coming home from a Sunday grocery trip, something we always enjoyed together. He didn’t open my car door, didn’t hold the front door, and when we got to the apartment steps, he walked inside, and the door shut in my face. Last week, he was saying, "Go make your tea, I'll carry the groceries." Now, I'm standing in the hallway, arms filled with grocery bags, and a door has just been shut in my face.

I was stunned. Crushed. Hurt.

And more than anything, confused.

We talked. He said it was stress at work. Since we’d been together so long, I decided to give the relationship six months before leaving. I believed he, we, were worth fighting for.

Things got better for a while… then slipped again. We’d talk, he’d promise, I’d hope.

"Six more months", I said to myself. We are worth it.

That cycle repeated itself several times before the relationship finally ended.

For a long time, I thought strength meant staying in a relationship and working hard to save it. I believed that if I just loved harder, tried more, forgave faster, it would somehow go back to the way it once was.

But love doesn’t work like that.

One of the hardest lessons I’ve ever learned is this: not all relationships are meant to be lifelong.

Even the ones that feel like they should be.

Even the ones you wanted more than anything to keep.

That truth broke my heart.

What I know now is that peace begins when you stop trying to hold together something that was never meant to last, and start believing you deserve love, respect, and kindness.

When the relationship finally ended, it still took me more than six months to plan my next step. I began facing everything I'd been avoiding. It was time to make choices, close chapters, face finances, downsize, sell furniture, and leave the home I loved.

During that process, I hired Ben from TaskRabbit to help move furniture I was donating to a charity. He was pleasant, professional, kind, and patient.

By then, being with a man who had become increasingly impatient and emotionally withdrawn had slowly become my normal. For more than twenty years, doing projects like this together had been something we enjoyed. But by the end, a simple task like moving furniture would have been met with frustration and distraction—and I would have found myself trying to make things easier, trying to smooth the moment, trying to manage his mood.

Ben’s kindness became an unexpected milestone for me. Two hours, eighty dollars, and a quiet realization: being treated with kindness is love. I no longer had that—and I hadn’t for a long time.

It sounds small, but it was a turning point for me: love should be easy, and not require lots of patience or effort.

Later, in therapy, I learned something important about myself—something many women struggle with:

I didn’t leave because I wasn’t strong.

I stayed because I didn’t yet believe I was worthy.

Worthy of consistency.

Worthy of kindness.

Worthy of someone who didn’t make me question myself.

Worthy of love that didn’t require me to shrink, over-give, or tolerate less than I deserved.

I am an over-giver. Anxiously attached. Resilient to a fault. And for most of my life, I’ve put the needs and wants of others before my own.

I learned that a lack of worthiness is something you can repair. It’s something you can grow into. And when that finally happens, everything changes.

If you’re in a situation that has you trying to decide whether to hold on or finally let go, I hope this gives you courage.

Because sometimes strength isn’t staying.

When I think back to that moment, standing in the hallway with grocery bags and a door closed in my face, I don’t feel anger anymore. Now I understand something I couldn’t then: the woman I am today would step away from a partner who had withdrawn. And that knowing feels like peace.

-Beth Caldwell

Hi, I’m Beth. I’m the founder of Beth Caldwell’s Circle for Women, a membership community built on the belief that women thrive through connection, compassion, and collaboration.