On Protecting Yo(ur) Heart
“We're all terrified of heartbreak, run at first signs of problems, make it look way too easy…we all got too many options. Remember when we used to do anything for love?”
— Dua Lipa
One of the first things you notice about New York is how desperately people want to leave their mark on it. There are murals on walls, doodles on scaffolding, stickers layered thick on stop signs…the whole city feels like one giant public sketchbook.
When I moved here almost ten years ago now, there was one image in particular that seemed to follow me everywhere: a stenciled heart with the words “Protect Yo Heart.”
The stenciled piece that peppers NYC sidewalks, by UnCutt Art.
I hated it.
The hopeless romantic in me (who moved to New York believing the point of life was to fling yourself fully into love like a swimming pool you pray is deep enough) despised that message. I assumed it meant pessimism; fear; detachment. I saw it as a warning label: a reminder to keep distance. And I resented the hell out of it.
But New York has a way of reshaping you quietly and brutally at the same time. Somewhere between heartbreaks, bathroom-floor cry sessions (plural, unfortunately), and the slow rebuilding of myself, I started to understand what the message was actually saying.
“Protect your heart” didn’t mean “don’t use it.” It means that the love you carry is rare and not everyone has earned the right to hold it.
Over the last three years of dating, healing, unlearning, and relearning, I’ve come to understand something I wish younger me had known: not everyone deserves access to the most delicate parts of you, not everyone knows how to hold them and not everyone wants to.
Some people are too hurt, some are still growing and some (the worst of all, in my opinion) need to break someone else just to feel whole. Add dating apps into the mix, with their illusions of endless options and greener pastures, and the whole thing becomes even more chaotic: even the strongest heart can get lost in the noise.
So after a two-year hiatus from dating, I decided to return differently this year. Not guarded, bitter or hardened but more honest, intentional and curious. And much more protective of who gets access to my heart. I showed up open but not reckless. Hopeful but not naïve. I let things unfold instead of sprinting toward possibility. I moved at a steady human pace. And for the first time in my life, I held my boundaries without apologizing for them.
It turns out, this version of me is pretty great (at least in my opinion). She is nerdy and funny, kind but strong, confident yet flexible. She listens to her instincts and through experience knows the difference between butterflies and warning signs. She wants connection, not chaos.
So you might be wondering…is there someone? Sadly, there is no sweeping love story to report. Not yet, anyway. But there is a win.
I walked away from my most recent dating situation with clarity, compassion, and grace. I did not crumble (and, for the record, not a single bathroom floor was harmed in the making of this chapter of my life). I did not beg someone to choose me. I did not make the incompatibility a referendum on my worth. I was excited and I was open, yes, but I was also steady and present. I understood that truly knowing someone takes time. And that choosing a partner is one of the biggest decisions you make for your happiness, which means it cannot be rushed.
It took me years to understand what that upside-down heart on the sidewalk was trying to tell me. I used to think it was a warning to stay guarded. Now I think it was a reminder to stay wise. Protecting my heart has not made me harder, it’s made me wiser. And for the first time in a long time, I feel proud of the woman I have become through all of this.
Protecting your heart does not mean closing it; it means choosing where you place it thoughtfully. So if you’re in a season of choosing too, I hope you choose with that intention and not fear. Xx
PS - More on my writing project to come soon, I promise I am not dormant there!