When You (or They) Connect With Someone Else: Now What?

Let’s say it happens.

You — or your partner, or friend — connect with someone else.
Deeply. Emotionally. Maybe even sexually.

Does that automatically mean something is broken? That love has ended? That someone was fake or unfaithful or lost?

Not necessarily.
Connection does not cancel connection.
This isn’t electricity — it’s human energy. And human energy multiplies, not divides.

The Rush to Abandon One for the Other

Here’s what often happens:

Someone feels seen in a new way.
Their soul lights up in this fresh connection.
They suddenly feel alive, new, desired, understood.
And they take that feeling to mean:
“This is real. That other relationship must be dead.”

But this is a trap.

What they’re often experiencing isn’t truer love — it’s novelty, reflection, an uncovered aspect of self that the new person evokes.
And instead of integrating that part into their life and growing, they throw the old thing away to chase the new mirror.

The tragedy?
It happens over and over — and people keep ending relationships not because they’re done, but because they don’t know how to expand.

What’s Really Happening: The Myth of Singular Fulfillment

The belief that “if I love them, I must not love you” is flawed because it assumes:

Love is limited.
Love can only have one valid direction at a time.
You must choose only one connection to be real.

But human emotions are not linear.
You can:

Miss someone while being with someone else.
Love your partner and still crave connection elsewhere.
Be happy and still feel pulled toward something different.

That doesn’t make you fake. It makes you human.

What Is Love, Anyway?

I will just say it — “love” is too all-encompassing to be useful. It’s become a bucket word. One that:

Can mean sex, comfort, possession, admiration, duty, obsession, infatuation, nostalgia, habit…
Is thrown around without clear definition.
Is used to justify staying or leaving, hurting or healing.

So what if we broke it down instead?

Here are some alternative words that give us more clarity:

Affinity: A natural pull, a resonance with someone.
Attachment: Emotional bonding, often with roots in familiarity and comfort.
Attraction: A spark — physical, intellectual, energetic.
Care: A steady presence, wanting the best for someone.
Devotion: Willingness to show up, through cycles and seasons.
Desire: That pull to explore and be close.
Respect: Seeing the person as whole, even when it’s hard.
Commitment: The choice to keep returning — not from fear, but intention.

When you name what you’re actually feeling — not just “love” — it becomes easier to hold the complexity of connection.

So How Do You Navigate This?

Let’s say you or your partner connects deeply with someone else. Here’s what not to do:

Don’t panic.
Don’t lie.
Don’t weaponize the word “love.”
Don’t assume that the new connection must replace the old.

Instead, try:

Pause. Let feelings breathe before making declarations.
Name what the connection brings out in you. What are you experiencing that feels alive, new, true?
Ask what’s missing in your current relationship — if anything.
Share openly, without shame or blame. This doesn’t have to be a threat. It can be insight.
Redefine the rules, together. Can your relationship expand to hold this connection? Can new boundaries be made, based in trust?

This isn’t easy. But it’s real. And real is worth more than perfect.

Final Reflection: From Control to Conscious Relationship

If you’re going to love — or whatever more accurate word you choose — do it from clarity, not fear.

Let people connect. Let them feel. Let yourself feel.
And trust that connection doesn’t need to be confined to be meaningful.

The question is never: “Have you connected with someone else?”
The question is:
“Can we grow through this without losing ourselves — or each other?”

Daniel Arap Moi — The Shadow and the Shepherd: A Deep Dive into Kenya’s Second President

If Jomo Kenyatta was the founding father, Daniel Toroitich Arap Moi was the long-reigning stepfather — sometimes protective, often punitive, and almost always enigmatic. He ruled Kenya for 24 years, the longest of any president to date. To some, he was the gentle teacher, Mwalimu , who kept the nation from tearing apart. To others, he was the architect of a surveillance state, a master of patronage and fear, the man who perfected repression through calm. This is a portrait of Daniel Arap Moi — not just as a ruler, but as a man shaped by modest beginnings, colonial violence, and the hunger for order in a chaotic time. Early Life: The Boy from Sacho Daniel Arap Moi was born on September 2, 1924, in Kurieng’wo, Baringo, in Kenya’s Rift Valley. He came from the Tugen sub-group of the Kalenjin community. His father died when he was just four. Raised by his uncle, Moi’s early life was marked by hardship, discipline, and deep Christian missionary influence. He trained as a teacher at Tambach ...

Not All Disabilities Are Visible

Some pain does not leave a mark. Some exhaustion does not show in the face. Some people are carrying weights that have no name, no diagnosis, and no outward sign. We are used to recognizing suffering only when it can be pointed to — a bandage, a crutch, a cast, a wound. Something we can see. But the human interior is its own world, and often, the heaviest struggles live there. The Quiet Work of Holding Yourself Together There are those who walk into a room smiling, contributing, present — and yet they are holding themselves together one breath at a time. Not because they are pretending, but because they have learned to live with what would overwhelm another person. Some battles are fought inside the mind: The slow grey of depression The relentless hum of anxiety The sudden, unbidden memory that takes the body back to a place it never wants to return The deep fatigue that sleep does not cure And yet, life continues. The world moves. The dishes still need to be wa...

Know Thyself: The Quiet Power of Naming Your Nature

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.” — Carl Jung We live in a culture that equates good intentions with goodness, and ambition with ability. But very few people in Kenya—or anywhere—truly know what they are made of. We can name our qualifications and our dreams. But ask someone their vices or virtues, and they hesitate. Worse, they lie. The Danger of Self-Unawareness In Kenya today, many of us are wandering through life making choices—big, small, and irreversible—without truly understanding who we are. We end up in jobs we despise, relationships we shouldn’t be in, or positions of influence we aren’t emotionally or ethically equipped for. And at the root of this dysfunction is a simple truth: we don’t know ourselves. This is not a spiritual or abstract dilemma. It’s a deeply practical one. To know oneself is to understand your vices, your virtues, your weaknesses, and your strengths—not in a vague sense, but in detail. Let’s ge...

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