What To Do With Disappointment

I used to believe that love meant always being there for people. And that people who loved me would do the same.

But life has a way of breaking down even our most deeply held expectations. And sometimes, absence itself is a kind of cruelty—the kind that echoes louder than words ever could.

They didn’t show up. They forgot the date. They didn’t ask how you were doing when your world was falling apart. They didn’t call back. They dismissed what mattered to you. They stayed silent when you needed someone to speak up.

And in the wake of all that... there you were.

Alone, perhaps. Confused, likely. Grieving, absolutely.

Grieving not just a moment, but the version of that relationship you thought you had. The safety and care you believed were mutual. The effort you assumed would be reciprocated.

Disappointment has a particular ache. It hums under the surface of things. It’s not as loud as heartbreak, but it lingers longer. It erodes trust in quiet, corrosive ways. And if we’re not careful, it convinces us to shrink ourselves, to become harder, colder, smaller, so we don’t feel that letdown again.

But here’s what I’ve learned: disappointment is a teacher. And self-compassion is the balm.

When people let you down, you get to choose how you tend to yourself.

You name the pain without rushing to fix it. You hold space for your hurt instead of minimizing it. You set boundaries rooted in clarity, not punishment. You let go of the story that you’re too much or not enough.

You ask yourself, What do I need right now?, and answer it with gentleness.

Sometimes, self-care looks like a walk in fresh air or a hot cup of coffee even if it’s 3pm and you know the extra caffeine will keep you up past your bedtime. Other times, it looks like canceling the plans, calling the therapist, crying in the car, or journaling until the ache spills out of your chest, just enough to let the air back in.

One of the most powerful forms of healing I’ve found is learning to show up for myself in the ways others couldn’t, or wouldn’t.

If someone’s absence left you feeling unwanted, remind yourself you are worthy of love that shows up. If someone’s silence made you feel invisible, affirm your own voice. If someone’s indifference made you question your value, return to the truth: you matter. Your story, your heart, your hopes, all of it matters.

Disappointment will visit all of us. But it doesn’t get the final word. The final word is yours.

And it can sound like grace. Like resilience. Like “I’ll keep loving, even if I have to do it differently.” Like “I will not abandon myself, even when others do.”

You don’t have to harden to protect your softness. You don’t have to carry someone else’s inability to meet you with care. You don’t have to be a doormat. You just have to keep coming home to yourself. Over and over and over again.

This, too, is an act of courage.