Tears of a clown by Debbie Donut

I decided to create this blog to support my journey as a content creator. I’ve spent weeks thinking, reflecting, and researching what my niche really is — and the truth is, I’m passionate about many things.

I love my witchy bits and bobs and living with a positive mindset. I enjoy growing my own herbs and exploring alternative remedies. I’m deeply devoted to my pets — Hamilton, my beautiful dog; Oreo, my son’s three-legged cat who lives with us; and my aquarium, which I find endlessly fascinating. I also love making decoupage with oyster shells and selling them to raise money for the dog charity I rescued Hamilton from.

All of these things bring me joy, peace, and purpose.

But there is one subject that hit me like a sack of bricks this Christmas Day — a question I’ve carried quietly for much of my life:

Why is it that the people I love most, and give my all to, end up hurting me?

I wish this was something I’d only felt once or twice, but the truth is, it’s been a pattern. Everyone I have loved deeply has, in some way, caused me pain. And if I’m being completely honest, I’m a bit of a glutton for punishment — because it keeps happening, and I keep loving just as hard.

This blog is a space where I explore that question with honesty, kindness, and reflection. It’s not about blame. It’s about understanding, healing, and learning how to keep a soft heart without losing myself.

If you’ve ever loved deeply, hurt quietly, or wondered why kindness can sometimes feel like a weakness — you’re not alone here.

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I want to be clear — I’m not trying to be morbid. I am a genuinely positive person. But once again, my heart was broken on Christmas Day of all days.

There is still a scared child inside me who hates conflict and wants to run away from it. And when I can’t run away, I do the only thing I know how to do — I protect myself. Since Christmas, I’ve been here on my own, reflecting, sitting with my thoughts, and trying to understand something that has followed me throughout my life.

Why is it that the people you love, the people you would do anything for, can be so cruel and hurtful?

If this were the first time it had happened, it might be easier to accept. But it isn’t. This has been a pattern — not once, not twice, but with everyone I have loved. And that is the part that hurts the most. It leaves me questioning not just others, but myself.

This isn’t about playing the victim or reopening old wounds. It’s about trying to make sense of the pain, so it no longer controls me. It’s about learning how to stay kind without being wounded, how to love without losing myself, and how to finally break a cycle that no longer serves me.

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Now I know I’m in pain, and I accept that it’s going to hurt for a while. I’m not pretending otherwise. What I’m questioning is what comes next. Do I draw a line and say never again — or is there still room for hope?

Let’s be honest, I’m no spring chicken. I’ve lived, I’ve loved, and I’ve been hurt more times than I care to count. And sometimes I genuinely wonder if it’s worth it anymore. I’ve always said I don’t need to be with someone — I choose to be. I know how to stand on my own two feet. I always have.

But when the same story keeps repeating, when love keeps ending in pain, it’s hard not to ask yourself whether throwing in the towel might actually be self-preservation. Whether saying enough is enough is strength, not failure.

Right now, I don’t have a neat answer. Some days I feel like closing the door for good. Other days, a small part of me still believes there must be another way — a way to love without losing myself, to hope without breaking.

Maybe this isn’t about giving up or giving in. Maybe it’s about pausing, protecting my heart, and deciding — on my own terms — what I will and won’t accept anymore.

And maybe asking “what the hell am I supposed to do now?” is exactly where healing begins.

I hope I haven’t bored you with my reflections. I wanted to share the other side of Debbie Donut — because I’m not all smiles and laughs all of the time. I’m human. I get confused. I get upset. And sometimes I need to sit quietly with my thoughts.

I know, though, that as soon as I see my children and my grandchildren, I’ll be alright. They ground me. They remind me who I am and why my heart stays open, even when it’s been hurt.

I shared this moment not for sympathy, but as a time of reflection — a chance to look honestly at my own actions, my patterns, and the way I give so much of myself. And yes, maybe… just maybe… it’s time I start putting myself first.

Not by hardening my heart, but by protecting it. By choosing myself with the same care and kindness I so freely give to others.

And that feels like a good place to begin.