You can't reschedule love
The Lie We Tell in the Name of Growth
In today’s culture of self-discovery and solo healing, there’s a narrative that sounds wise—mature, even:
“I need to take time off from this relationship to work on myself. I’m doing this so I can be better… for you.”
It’s a line we’ve all heard—or maybe said—somewhere between a goodbye and a maybe. On the surface, it’s poetic. It dresses up heartbreak in the soft language of personal growth. But here’s the truth: you cannot reschedule love.
Love doesn’t sit quietly on the shelf while you figure yourself out. It doesn’t wait politely in a Google Calendar, ready to be resumed when you’ve meditated enough, journaled enough, or healed enough. Love demands presence. It demands choosing someone while you’re still messy, uncertain, unfinished.
The idea that we must completely “know ourselves” before we can love someone else is seductive—but wrong. The obsessive chase to understand every dark corner of your psyche often becomes a distraction. You can get so lost in the mirror of introspection that you forget the world outside needs you. More importantly—people need you.
We often talk about showing up as the “best version” of ourselves. But the truth is: your partner doesn’t only deserve the best parts of you. They don’t just want your highlight reel or the version of you who’s been through ten therapy sessions and a healing retreat in Bali. If they love you, they’re choosing all of you—the overthinker, the anxious, the moody, the parts still under construction.
And in return, they deserve to be chosen too.
Not after the healing.
Not once you’re emotionally flawless.
But now—in the becoming.
Because real love isn’t built on perfection. It’s built on patience. On holding space for each other. On learning to stay, even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when the version of you showing up today is carrying old wounds and unresolved chapters.
Growth doesn’t require disappearance. You don’t have to vanish to evolve. In fact, some of the deepest healing happens when someone sees you in your most unfiltered state—and stays. And you do the same for them.
At some point, the goal isn’t to become the most self-aware version of yourself—it’s to forget yourself entirely. That’s when you’re free. Free to fight for something bigger than your ego. Free to put someone else before your endless inner work. You fight for love. For meaning. For the things that tether you to life when your self-analysis tries to pull you away from it.
So the next time someone says they need to “work on themselves” and they’ll “come back when they’re ready,” know this:
They’re not pressing pause on love.
They’re letting it go.
And if you ever find yourself tempted to say those words—ask yourself what you’re really avoiding. Because maybe love isn’t something to delay until you’re perfect.
Maybe it’s the very thing that shapes you, breaks you, and builds you—while you’re still becoming.
You don’t reschedule love.
You grow inside it.