[heart-burn333]

Letter to little me:

Dear Birdy,

I wonder if your teacher knew, all those years ago, just how perfect that name was for you. Even then, you carried wings meant for wide skies, painted with all the colors of your spirit. You are an 8 year old macaw; vibrant, bold, and brave. There is confidence in your feet when you dance, a demand to be heard when you sing. No one can match your fly. You move with a grace that turns heads and brings smiles to every face you pass. As you soar, you string the stars together, creating constellations only you can see. You notice the brightness in a world that others overlook, and it feels so close, so possible for you to touch.

I also know the truth you carry Birdy. That when you’d fly home, those wings are pulled back, folded into silence, into places that feel like cages. Your flock, those who are meant to love you most often overlook your beauty. They don’t protect your tender innocence. For a while, you begin to hide. You tuck your colors away and feel more like quail; quiet, timid, always retreating when danger came too close. The music in you quiets and you learn to keep secrets. You learn to fly in the dark because the light doesn’t always feel safe. You confide in the darkness until it becomes apart of you.

Later Birdy, that darkness would betray you. As you grow, it becomes a constant reminder that you can’t shine without it. It pulls you back, trying to shelter you from the deceit of reality. As you battle with this darkness, the remnants of the struggle leaves marks on those you grow to love. You carry the weight of confusion and pain with this darkness like crow; Heavy on your shoulders. The world eventually decides where you fly, how bright you shine, and how loud you sing. You often allow it. With no control over the view of your world, anger grows inside you. That anger, paired with the darkness pulls you back to that cage you had always feared.

Birdy, listen closely: None of this is your fault. Your wings were always meant for freedom, for joy, for love. The pain you carry is not a reflection of who you are, but of what others could not give. I am here now, and I will not leave you. I will be the one to keep you safe. Together, we will shed the heaviness that never belonged to us. You don’t have to hide anymore. Those feathers you once tucked away, the ones you thought were too bright, too sharp, too fragile—they are yours to unfurl now. You don’t have to shrink. Your colors are still there; bright, bold, unshaken. Your song is still inside you, waiting to sing again.

There will be storms ahead, dark skies, and heavy rain, but you will fly through them. And on the other side, you will always find the rainbow, the warmth of the sun, the clear and endless sky. You will build a home for yourself that feels safe and whole. A home filled with the love you once longed for. A home under my care, my protection, my love.

Birdy, you are free now. Free to dance, free to sing, free to shine in every color you carry. Free to be seen, to be loved, to be exactly who you are.

You are, and have always been, enough. And this time, no one can take your wings away. Like dove; You are free. 🕊️

Love Eternally ~ Me ❤️

[heart-burn333]

I live in a glass house,

yet eyes choose to look past me.

I hide nothing

no daggers behind my back,

yet I am unworthy of trust.

Who am I

through the eyes of others?

In my mistakes, I’m sentenced to abandonment.

At my best, I am most valued.

They love me polished.

They leave me human.

Who am I

through the eyes of others?

My arms lay gentle, ready to embrace the weary.

My shoulders stand firm, built to carry the weakest soul.

Yet when I collapse under my own weight,

I fall into empty arms.

Who is there for me?

When I am dust,

what will remain of me?

Am I a source of pain

or a woman

deeply misunderstood?

[heart-burn333]

The people of this earth have carved their sharpest knives into the deepest parts of me,

yet still they wonder why I do not bleed with anger.

Life has dealt me a ruthless hand,

by all rights, I should be at war with it.

Why am I brought to the ledge of my own destruction and still decide not to jump?

Why do the murmurs of my heart continue to pump hope for love that always leaves?

[heart-burn333]

Cycles with closeness….

Self-control

I begin from a grounded place, calm in my body, quiet in my mind.

There’s a part of my brain that works tirelessly to maintain this state, like a script I must follow, bracing for failure before it arrives.

This is the fear that clings to my body.

Tension

Something shifts.

Pressure builds and bursts through the walls, breaking down every structure my brain worked so hard to keep standing.

The environment changes, and my nervous system starts to chip away.

Loss of control

My body chooses a language: anger, shutdown, humor, over explaining.

Restraint is no longer mine to command.

This is where my brain and body go to war

one screaming to slow down,

the other insisting on pressing forward.

Regret

What follows is punishment disguised as reflection.

Overanalysis. Anxiety. Guilt.

An urgent need to repair.

Lessons arrive as beatings.

My body weeps in agony while my brain laughs, screaming, “I told you so.”

It’s at the bottom of this defeat that my body recharges

retrains itself to do better,

to be tighter, quieter, more controlled next time.

Self-control

Where it starts…….

[heart-burn333]

How do I explain the feeling of being too much and not enough at the same time, of doing too much of the wrong things and never enough of the right ones?

How do I explain knowing and understanding, yet not knowing how to act on that knowledge?

How do I explain feeling so deeply that I lose myself in the depth of it?

How do I explain feeling like a failure when all I want is to do the right thing?

How do I explain a mind that feels like the safest unsafe place to live where reflection and punishment coexists?

How do I explain a brain that never sleeps, that is always thinking, always weighing, always questioning?

It’s the constant tension of being damned if I do and damned if I don’t, trapped between intention and action, longing and doubt.

Is this self pitty or am I too human?

[heart-burn333]

I don’t know who I am in the eyes of others…

[heart-burn333]

Self-love Reclaimed…..

I’ve struggled my entire life to accept the way I look, the way I feel in my body, my skin, the features I once tried to reject. It’s taken a lot of work to get to this place of acceptance, this peace, this quiet understanding that what I was blessed with was never a flaw, but something I was meant to learn how to hold with care.

I understand why I was afraid of mirrors, why I avoided the camera, why I feared seeing myself reflected back to me. How I’ve come to loving myself, my body, and every part of me has been a journey taken for me and me alone. And while there are still parts I’m learning to soften toward, I can see how far I’ve come.

I no longer allow meaning to be placed on my body that isn’t mine. I won’t carry judgment from people still figuring themselves out or projecting their own narratives onto something I’ve already claimed.

Today, I can say with conviction that I love myself. Those words existed before, but they didn’t live in my body the way they do now. I take photos not to be seen, but to witness myself in all sides, all angles without hiding. I meet my reflection with curiosity instead of criticism. I speak to my body with kindness, and funny enough it’s trusting and loving me back.

I am growing. I am evolving. NOT for approval. NOT for validation. But for MYSELF.

[heart-burn333]

Moonchild…

She was born and fed in the absence of the silver spoon.

Eight years old lying on the dark side of the moon.

A grown man stand lookout from inside the room.

I, the woman looking through the eyes of her youth.

She saw the garden of love from the thorns in the bush to the roses above.

It was there her flower withdrew from the thick in the mud.

Her thoughts hopped on a plane to a faraway land where her dreams were made.

Fighting with the body who had begged her to stay.

This was the path she had to take.

Twelve years old and she had already been through enough.

She’d soon learn It was not the end,

she had to be tough.

But the mind grew gray and the dark grew weak.

The memory stains with secrets she couldn’t speak.

And then it came the day they met.

At twenty-seven It was the time of joy and the time of regret.

This darkness, this side, she had never met.

They moved forward but she still held guilt and shame from the night he stole.

Forever haunts that child and follows her down that long brick road.

At times I think about that child.

Who held so close to me when

She’d hide herself away and refuse to smile.

This was her life, a life in denial.

And so she found an avenue.

Thirty long years feels like too long to defuse.

Turns out love became her greatest gift.

It showed her how great life truly is.

Then that darkness fell right off the cliff.

What kind of garden of love is this?

Here she stands so well and true.

She is now on the brighter side of the moon.

A truth she ran from but now walks gently into.

Her voice rose right into view.

And finally…I’ve come to peace with you.

❤️ 🕊️

[heart-burn333]

SAFE LOVE…..

Safe love doesn’t make you guess.

You don’t spend your nights overthinking because someone pulled away.

You don’t feel stupid for caring, or clingy for wanting closeness.

Safe love makes you feel like you matter.

Like you’re too important to lose.

Like someone would actually notice if you pulled away and they’d come find you.

Safe love doesn’t turn you into a version of yourself you don’t recognize.

It doesn’t make you replay conversations trying to decode what went wrong.

It doesn’t make you shrink, or apologize for needing reassurance.

Safe love is steady.

It’s honest.

It’s consistent.

It makes room for you: your softness, your fears, your dreams, your quiet days.

It’s the kind of love where you don’t have to save yourself every time you start to fall apart.

Where you’re allowed to learn.

Where you’re allowed to be human.

You shouldn’t have to earn that.

You shouldn’t have to hope someone means what they say.

You shouldn’t have to wonder if you’re asking for too much when all you want is to feel safe in someone’s hands.

Maybe we all outgrow the kind of love that feels like survival.

Maybe the next chapter, the real chapter, is choosing the kind of love that chooses you back.

Every day.

Not just when it’s convenient.

Not just when it’s “cute.”

Not just when it’s easy.

No guessing.

No fear.

Not waiting for someone to prove that you matter.

You stop settling for anything less.

[heart-burn333]

LOVE….

When LOVE is anchored:

Nothing feels too big to face. Conflict doesn’t become a battlefield because there’s no fear of losing and no ego begging to win. Forgiveness flows both ways, naturally, like breathing. There’s room for misunderstanding without the threat of collapse. There’s so much grace and an understanding that agreement isn’t what binds you. Love is. The root is steady, even when the branches shake.

When FEAR is anchored:

Love turns into something weightless, present, but unsupported. It floats, searching for a place to land, becoming distorted and fragile even when it still exists. Fear becomes the home base, the default setting, the place everything returns to in moments of conflict, in moments of closeness, in silence, in distance, and especially when hope feels thin. It whispers worst-case scenarios, rewrites intentions, and pulls you back into old wounds you thought you’d outgrown.

I’m learning the difference between the two.

I’ve realized that for most of my life, I’ve anchored myself in fear without even knowing it. I built romantic, emotional, even family relationships on the unstable soil of “What if this goes wrong?” instead of “What if this grows?” I returned to fear in love, in conflict, in sadness, in insecurity. I trusted the familiar ache more than the unfamiliar safety.

But I’m learning. I’m uprooting the weed of fear and choosing to fertilize something different. Something steadier. I’m planting the roots of love, the kind that remains even when emotions shift, even when mistakes happen, and even when life throws its storms.

Love doesn’t stop fear from existing.

It just stops fear from being the place I keep coming home to.

[thehopefulquotes]

“Maturity is learning to walk away from people and situations that threaten your peace of mind, self-respect, values, morals and self worth.”

— Unknown

[somewordsarebiggerthanothers]

[heart-burn333]

Vent:

And sometimes your weakest days become your strongest tests. It’s like everything you’ve worked so hard to hold together suddenly collapses, convincing you that maybe all the effort was pointless. Maybe the progress wasn’t real. Maybe you were never as strong as you hoped.

I know not every day is going to feel like growth, and today is definitely one of those days. Today, I just… don’t have it in me. I’m tired. I don’t want to grow. I don’t want to learn another lesson. I don’t want to keep saving myself from the things that claw at me from the inside. I’m exhausted from being the strong one, from having a resilient heart, from lifting my chin and squaring my shoulders like everything is fine.

Today, I feel done. I feel depleted. And right now I just need to allow myself to admit that.

[heart-burn333]

You know. Deep down you just know.

[heart-burn333]

LOVE

To see someone fully: Their history, their fears, their ways of speaking and accept them as they are.

To hold space for vulnerability, insecurity, and the fragile places they’ve never felt safe enough to reveal, without closing the space they need to breathe.

To be patient, to bring calm to their storms, and to love deeply without disappearing into their existence.

To love and be truly loved. 🕊️ ❤️

[heart-burn333]

My intuition has never failed me, I just needed to grow into someone who trusts it.

[heart-burn333]

Identity…..

My father knew before anyone.

I never confessed it, but he read it in all the ways I failed to fit into his narrow blueprint of what a “woman” should be. He had a scent for difference, and eventually I became his hunt. I didn’t understand then that his rage was aimed at every unladylike mannerism he thought betrayed his beliefs.

“You lesbian!” he’d shout, as if naming my truth was the greatest offense I could commit. As if speaking it out loud intensified his anger. In his world, femininity was a straight line, and I walked every curve of it. I was damned from the start.

My mother always knew, maybe even before I did.

Her softness made it easy to breathe, but her faith made it hard to be free. I remember sitting in her car at ten years old, swallowed by anxiety, wanting so desperately for her to see the version of me I had no words for yet. She’d look at me sometimes like she was trying to peer into the soul begging to be understood, but I always looked away when it felt too dark, too real, too revealing.

Her love told me I was safe.

Her beliefs told me I wasn’t.

I knew my whole life.

My soul wore this identity far more comfortably than my skin ever did. But the weight of the world’s judgments made the simple act of existing feel like walking through water with chains around my ankles. If each of us carries unique DNA, if we are literally designed to be different, then why is being yourself treated like rebellion? Isn’t that the point of being human? To exist as the most honest version of your soul?

I spent years standing in my truth, frozen in place, but life has finally taught me to walk, to breathe, and to move without apologizing for the space my soul was born to take up. I no longer crave acceptance from people still stumbling in their own shadows, still trying to recognize their own reflections.

Because the greatest love I’ve ever known is the love I’m finally giving myself: the love where my soul and my body agree on who I am, unhidden, whole, and exactly who I was meant to be.

Finally, I understand who I am. ❤️ 🕊️