Here's the first chapter.

Chapter 1 – Defining the Challenge

The first chapter of any self-help book is probably the hardest to pen, because much groundwork must be laid for the conversation to follow. The vocabulary for the topic must sometimes be defined, especially when the topic is esoteric and emotion laden. Sometimes there isn’t even a word for what is meant to be conveyed. Such is the “problem” of what to call the person for or with whom we experienced a profound love but from whom we must now emotionally extricate ourselves, especially when we don’t want to, when we would rather advance or maintain the love affair but circumstances prevent us from doing so.

My friends offered many suggestions. “The Beloved,” I was told, is too reverential, idealized and present-tense. The relationship is over, even if in name only, so the word for that person should reflect this.

“The Stringer” was suggested, as in someone who strings us along until we’re worn out from his/her disingenuousness.

"The Ember," as in still very warm but no longer in the fire, and because of that will eventually fall away or die out.

For a more wistful term, there's "lost love." There’s always ex-lover, but how do you ex-love someone? There’s “past love,” “ex-boyfriend/girlfriend,” “former sweetheart,” etc., but none of these terms hit the nail on the head. Finally, I thought, I’ll have to coin a word—for there surely is a language gap—to describe a love that must be abandoned, for whatever reason, while still fervently felt. Naming a thing gives us, I suppose, a certain amount of control over its effect upon us inwardly. And since this is a book about taking back your heart, control, at long last, is a very fine thing indeed.

Upon first taking to my keyboard, I had referred to my former lover as "the Beloved.” Some who reviewed the beginning drafts of this book suggested that I refer to him in a less romantic or endearing term; that the very use of the word “beloved” suggests an ongoing attachment to that person. Words like “my attachment,” or “the one I loved,” or “past lover” were suggested to take the charge off a discussion about the Beloved. But I submit that it’s unhelpful to demonize or neutralize the Beloved and, during my own detachment, I refused to do so. After all, I reasoned, I tend to exercise good judgment when I love someone—that is, if I love someone, he’s worthy of that place in my heart until he proves himself otherwise. To now reduce the Beloved to merely an emotional “attachment” is to say that my judgment can’t be trusted. I believe that I honor the place the Beloved had in my life by referring to him as what he was to me. This treatment doesn’t compromise one’s ability to form a strong bond with another Beloved somewhere down the road—in fact, that’s our goal. We can cherish the memories and recognize the authenticity of the relationship by acknowledging, “I would not be who I am without this experience.” The relationship happened. It had a soul and a life force, albeit a force that needs to be forsaken now. As Whitney Houston sang so powerfully, “The ride with you was worth the fall.”

Perhaps "the Beloved" works well here in reference to the start of the process of unloving, but maybe not so well down the road. In any case, I’ll avoid the straitjacket of using any term exclusively and, for now, to provide brevity for the reader, call the object of our love “the Beloved” and our own role as “the Lover.”

I will not address the emotional needs of the Beloved because, for the object of our love, there's a gain in being the Beloved that is beyond the scope of this discussion. We're talking about you, the Lover, and your need to release yourself from love that will break you—if you let it.