When the Well Runs Dry: Rethinking Love in My Mid-30s

Random Thoughts from a Restless Mind

Category: Love

Published On: June 18, 2025

I remember a time, not so long ago, when I believed love was an endless well. It was a beautiful, comforting thought – that no matter how much you poured out, the supply would never diminish. You couldn't run out of love, just like you couldn't run out of laughs or the sky couldn't run out of blue.

For me, love wasn't a finite resource to be carefully rationed. It was more like a muscle: the more you used it, the stronger it became. The more you loved – truly, deeply, selflessly – the more capacity you gained to love. It was an expansive, ever-growing force within me, ready to be shared. I didn't always give my love to people in my life, but when I decided to let someone in, to let someone get that close, I wanted to be all-in. I embraced this philosophy, pouring my heart into relationships, offering support, empathy, and boundless affection. I genuinely believed that my well of love was inexhaustible.

But something has shifted. Now, in my mid-30s, that endless well feels… empty.

It’s a strange, disorienting feeling, like waking up one day to find the vibrant colors of your world have faded to gray. I genuinely feel like I have no love left to give. It’s not that I don’t care about the people in my life; I do, deeply. But the capacity to express that love, to nurture it, to feel its expansive warmth within me – it's just not there.

Instead, there's a hollowness. An echo where a vibrant song used to be. Every demand on my emotional reserves, every request for empathy or support, feels like an impossible ask. I look at the people I care about, and while my mind knows I love them, my heart feels like a barren landscape. I don't feel capable of giving or receiving love, especially not from anyone new.

This isn't how I envisioned my mid-30s. I thought I'd be even more capable of love, wiser and richer in my emotional connections. Instead, I'm left questioning everything I thought I knew about love’s enduring nature. Is it possible to truly run out? Or is this a temporary drought, a period of replenishment needed after years of giving?

I don't have the answers right now. All I know is that the endless well feels dry, and I'm left searching for a way to refill it, or perhaps, to redefine what love means when you feel like you have nothing left to give. Or perhaps I don't look for an answer. Maybe I just accept where the world seems to be sending me and just full-send in the other direction. 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️