From Fireworks to a Fireplace: Choosing Real Love Over Passion – A Vulnerable Share

If you’ve ever wondered whether deep, stable love truly exists—if you’ve found yourself drawn to intense, passionate relationships that burn bright but leave you questioning your worth—this is for you. I spent years believing love had to be all-encompassing, only to discover that real love is something else entirely. This is my story of unlearning, healing, and stepping into a kind of love I began to believe never was possible.

Before I begin, I want to make something clear—my relationship is not perfect. No relationship is. Love, even in its most sacred form, is not a fairytale. It is not effortless, nor is it without challenges. But what I have stepped into is something real, something anchored in truth, and something worth every moment of growth and learning.

Love. The word alone carries so many expectations, illusions, and projections. For most of my life, I thought I understood it. I thought love had to be grand, all-consuming, intense. That if it wasn’t full of fire, it wasn’t real. And yet, here I am, standing in something I never could have imagined, something far deeper and more whole than any love I have ever known. A conscious, sacred union.

It’s not what I thought it would look like. It is not effortless. It is not free of challenge. In fact, it has been testing, raw, and deeply confronting. But it is also harmonious, a steady anchor, a home within another. A feeling of rightness and peace I never truly knew existed.

I want to share this with you not because I have "made it" in love or because I have all the answers, actually far from it, but because I know what it feels like to wonder if this kind of love exists. To question if you’re asking for too much. To feel like deep, open communication and unwavering devotion might just be a fantasy.

I first met my love short of five years ago in his hometown in Greece where I had decided to live for a few months. It was not long after I had walked away from my nine-year relationship, an engagement, and a life I had built as a stepmother. When I met him, he was a breath of fresh air. He reflected back to me something I had been missing—simplicity. Devotion. The truth that when someone truly sees you, there are no games, only presence, only raw transparency and respect.

And yet, despite the depth of our connection and when it was time for me to leave his hometown, we both knew the timing wasn’t right to continue, which was a hard pill to swallow for us both at the time. He was at the beginning of his own very inward awakening, still living in Greece. I was emerging from a life I had spent years building, with wounds still fresh, my former step-child’s heart still in the mix of the big change I was navigating. And so, we chose 'friendship’.

From the very beginning, we had two foundational things—full transparency and deep respect. We agreed that we would be honest with ourselves and with each other even if it may hurt, and we have both consistently stuck to that.

This is what carried us through all these years, what allowed us to stay in each other’s orbits even when life took us in different directions which was not always easy. Our bond growing stronger with time, shaped by honesty, respect, and a connection that sometimes felt undeniably more distant than other times but never faded. Every few weeks, or sometimes even months apart, we would have long conversations, hours melting away like minutes but in between those long deep chats, we would live our own very different individual lives.

Though our journeys looked vastly different—mine taking me around the world, deep into plant medicine and healing, expanding my purpose and work, while his was more subtle, unfolding in a quieter yet equally profound way—we were both evolving in ways we couldn’t yet understand. 

One of the last conversations we had before I left his hometown, I remember him telling me 'It might be the end of this chapter now, but our story hasn’t finished— in fact, it has barely started' And from then onwards, he claims that this deeper knowing within him always remained, but didn't attach himself to the 'when' but simply trusted that the time will come naturally. So there was no 'waiting' for me—he just actively focused on growing, making sure that when the time came, he could step into this commitment with the strength and presence it deserved. 

Most men that I explored something with before my current boyfriend had one thing in common—fire. Fire that brought passion and ecstasy, but also uncertainty. A kind of love that made me question myself, left me restless, waiting, wondering. Despite meeting these feelings regularly in my then connections, these relationships held their own kind of magic. I met incredible men who taught me so much, who reflected parts of myself back to me, who helped me grow into the woman I am today. They were beautiful in their own ways, but they were not long-term anchored in safety. They were not the place where I could fully EXHALE. I see now that I was addicted to the cycle, call it drama maybe—the chaos, the disconnection and then the sweet addictive rush of reconnection. It was intoxicating, but it was never stable. It was never home, despite sometimes desperately wanting (and convincing) myself that it was.

Over the years, my conversations with my now boyfriend increasingly circled around the question - should we give this a real chance? At first, I convinced myself that he wasn’t it. That we were better as friends. That something was missing. But as years passed and the more we grew as individuals, it became more and more apparent that we were possibly re-entering something romantic again. And that is when I started to push, to test... because I was scared. My nervous system didn’t recognise this kind of steady, grounded presence. It felt foreign, almost too easy. I had spent so long navigating uncertain love that when something truly safe arrived, I questioned it. Again and again, I convinced myself and him that we should remain in the 'friendship' zone despite feeling the inevitable pull towards something more.

I didn’t understand at the time that I was trying to protect myself. That my nervous system had been wired to associate love with extreme intensity, with uncertainty, with the highs and the lows. When we finally and organically began to circle back towards each other romantically, he naturally took it in his own stride to help me heal my wounds. To help me see them. And he helped me experience something I had never truly known—a man who, when I acted out from unfamiliarity and fear, met me with unshakable steadiness. He didn’t recoil, he didn’t retreat. Instead, he stood like a rock, meeting my uncertainty with consistency, showing up—reliable, devoted, caring.

I didn’t know how to receive it at times and those times that I didn't, I tested him more. Not out of malice but because my nervous system struggled to trust something so constant, so steady. I was afraid of leaning in, of letting go of the old patterns I had once clung to. Looking back, I see now that I pushed him, unconsciously, to see if he would walk away. But he didn’t. He didn’t sway, didn’t abandon the space we had built together - but he also held himself with boundaries and self-respect, never allowing his devotion to come at the cost of his own worth. He simply stood there, holding up the mirror, showing me all the parts of myself that still needed to heal.

And like I said, the truth is, he always knew. From the very beginning, he knew we would find our way back to each other. Even when I didn’t. Even when I actively ran from it...He called it from the beginning.

A year before we fully stepped into commitment, he visited me in Lisbon with the intention of reconnecting and seeing where life might lead us. But at the time, my life presented an unexpected crossroads, adding complexity to an already delicate situation. I was honest about where I was, allowing things to unfold in their own way, without pushing or controlling the outcome. At the end of our time together, my now-boyfriend looked at me with quiet confidence and said, 'Go. Experience what you need to experience. My love is big enough to let you go,' before softly adding, 'And anyway, I know you’ll be back.'

And he was right. I didn’t believe him at the time. I didn’t want to. But some part of me—some very deep, unconscious part—knew. And so I stepped into what would become one of the most challenging six months of my life. I had no idea what was coming when we said goodbye to each other before he left for Lisbon airport but I for sure knew it would reveal the goodness of my now boyfriend more and more...because guess what happened when life cracked me open, when I found myself facing something more difficult than I had imagined, who was there? Who held me through it, wiped my tears, and never wavered? Him. 

Slowly and organically, we found our way back to each other, both arriving at a place where we were ready or should I say as ready as we could be—not just for love, but for the kind of love we had been building towards all along without even realising it. I knew that he had always wanted to step into this fully, but that didn’t mean waiting—it meant actively becoming the man he knew he could be. He was doing the inner work, growing, and aligning himself with the kind of partnership he wanted to create. He knew that love wasn’t just about feelings—it was about being truly prepared to show up, to offer something strong and unwavering. Through deep conversations, we both recognised that real love required readiness from both sides, and his journey of becoming was just as important as mine. And for me, my path still had lessons to offer—experiences that would shape me, healing that would prepare me to receive a love so different from what I had known. But he also knew—with quiet certainty—that when the time was right, we would meet each other fully. There is no such thing as perfect timing. There were things in our lives that made it challenging to be together, but we were as ready as we could be—and we went for it. A few years after we originally met, on a cold autumn day somewhere in Norway. I chose. He chose. We chose. We stepped into commitment with clear, conscious intention.

It has been the best decision of my life. But to stand here now, I had to unlearn so much of what I thought love was. I had to let go of the idea that stability meant boredom. That peace meant a lack of depth. That safety was somehow less exciting than chaos. Because this love, this union, is anything but boring. It is rich. It is stimulating. It is expansive. It is built on a foundation that cannot be shaken.

I once heard something that changed everything for me: "Don’t settle for a firework, settle for a fireplace." And I now realise that I always went for fireworks—not a fireplace. I craved the spectacle, the thrill, the fleeting magic. But a firework burns bright, bringing intense, dramatic emotion before fading into the night, while a fireplace offers a constant, steady warmth—safe, comforting, and enduring. And wow, to be with a fireplace now is like a balm to my soul. I can finally relax.

But who knows where love takes you? Sometimes, even the most healthy love ends. Being unshakable doesn’t mean it will last forever. Yet, there is a deep knowing within me that I am meant to travel long and deep with this man. Perhaps, we will grow old and wrinkly together, or perhaps life will lead us somewhere unexpected. But what I do know is this—don’t settle for the person who gives you the biggest thrill, the highest highs and lowest lows. Wait for the one who offers stability, devotion, and a constant, grounding presence.

My partner will never make me feel unheard or unimportant. He ensures I am comfortable, safe, and seen. He is not hot and cold—because that is not love; it is a toxic pattern that too many of us have been conditioned to accept. Stop settling for it. Stop mistaking drama for passion.

The right person will communicate when they need space, will stand beside you when you need support. You can lean on the right one consistently. You cannot lean on the wrong one consistently.

The most vital piece of all of this? Communication. My deepest desire in past relationships was open, honest communication—where anything could be brought up without defensiveness, where there was an eagerness to hear, to learn, to grow as a team. But time and time again, when I tried to have these conversations, I was met with walls. With resistance. With guards up. I started to believe it was me. That I was asking for too much. That maybe this kind of love didn’t exist.

But my partner has saved my increasingly closing heart and proven to me that it is absolutely possible and as a result helped me re-open it. That healthy love is built on openness, on deep listening, on a willingness to meet each other in truth rather than in reaction. And I want to tell you—do not give up on the pursuit of healthy love. It will come. I am 35, and my younger self would have truly thought I would've been married with three kids by now but I'm not. And I am so grateful for that because it would have been with the wrong man and with a version of myself that still had growth to do in ways that maybe wouldn’t have allow me to step into the woman I am today. Instead, I trusted my intuition, walked away when I needed to, and chose not to settle. I knew deep down that an average relationship is a choice, and I chose to wait for something extraordinary. And this is your sign, that you deserve this too. 

Do not settle for "good enough." This is a terrible fate. You deserve more. We all do.

With love, Katinka

P.S. – Giving a special thanks to my love for re-opening my hurt heart and loving me through my multi-faceted self. I love you.

And to you, dear reader—if you’re still searching, still wondering if this kind of love exists, keep going. Keep choosing yourself, keep growing, and trust that the love meant for you will find you when you are truly ready to receive it. The wait is worth it.