𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 '𝐒𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭' 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

We are taught, from the very beginning, to sort our feelings into neat, orderly boxes. This is joy. That is sorrow. This is love. That is anger. We are given an emotional map that insists a single road can only lead to one destination. But the heart is not a cartographer; it is a wild and untamed landscape where weather systems collide.

To love someone who hurt you is not a paradox. It is a testament to the profound complexity of your own spirit. You can miss the home you fled. You can ache for a parent’s approval while simultaneously raging at their failure. You can feel unburdened by a divorce and yet still grieve for the future you once envisioned. This is not a sign that you are broken or confused. It is a sign that you are feeling wholly.

We try to force a choice because it feels safer. To be entirely angry is a clean, burning fuel. To be purely sad is a known weight. But to be both at once? To feel loyalty and betrayal tangled in the same knot? That is a dizzying, terrifying space. So we try to prune ourselves. We feel a flicker of love for someone who caused us pain, and we snuff it out, believing it invalidates our rightful anger. We feel anger toward someone we are supposed to only cherish, and we bury it, believing it makes us a monster.

But what if healing isn't about choosing? What if it is about expanding? It is about building a room inside yourself, spacious enough to hold all of your truths at once. Your father was your protector, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 he was the source of your fear. Your friend was your greatest supporter, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 she abandoned you when you needed her most. Your body has carried you through life, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 it has betrayed you with illness. Both are true. One does not cancel out the other.

This is the alchemy of the human heart: to learn to let these opposing forces sit side-by-side without demanding they fight to the death. You can light a candle for your grief while still stepping into your new beginning. You can feel furious at your partner and still feel a deep, unwavering love for them. You can forgive a part of the hurt while still honouring the truth of the wound.

Stop trying to simplify a soul that was never meant to be simple. Your capacity to hold contradiction is not a flaw; it is your greatest strength. It is the evidence that you have loved, that you have lost, and that you are still here, brave enough to feel it all without coming apart.

Make space for the whole story. Make space for the ‘and’. Healing is not allowing one emotion to win over another. It is making space for both.