If I like a song, I’ll play it on repeat for a week straight—until I’m absolutely sick of it and can recite every lyric by heart.

Lately, the one looping in my ears has been “I Lost Myself In Loving You” by Jamie Miller.

https://open.spotify.com/track/4aCpziLd5FoFNGYceXzExN?si=e98893f4a7e74fe6

One verse lingers with me:

I lost myself in loving you, in loving you Became someone else I never knew, I never knew

We often walk away from love believing we've lost something. A piece of ourselves. A version of who we were with that person. What’s hard about letting go isn’t just saying goodbye to someone close—but burying a part of ourselves, too. It almost feels like each heartbreak is its own little death.

But lately, I’ve been rethinking that narrative.

What if heartbreak isn’t just about loss—but about some sort of… gain?

Maybe it teaches you to overthink less. Maybe it reminds you not to rely so heavily on others' opinions. Maybe it teaches forgiveness. In that sense, subtracting a negative can create a positive.

Even if none of those lessons land immediately, you’re still forced to navigate a wider range of emotions. That alone builds something in you.

So maybe when love ends, we don’t walk away with less.

Maybe we walk away with more.

More self-awareness. More empathy. More clarity—about what we want, what we need, what we’ll never settle for again.

More proof that we’re capable of feeling deeply, of healing fully.

Maybe we don’t die with every love.

Maybe we come alive—piece by piece, person by person—until one day, we meet someone who doesn’t complete us, but instead sees the mosaic we've built from everything we thought we lost.

And maybe that’s the true gift of heartbreak:

Not what it takes from us,

but what it leaves behind.