🌙 Something to Return To on Soft Nights
There are nights I feel tender. A little hollow in the chest. Not broken, just human.
So I write this, not to convince myself of anything, but to remember what is already true:
I am whole, even in softness. I am steady, even in longing. Nothing about wanting connection takes me away from myself.
I am not waiting to become enough. I already am.
Life is still unfolding in its own timing, and I can trust what is not yet here.
I am deeply held: by God, by life, and by the quiet strength growing within me.
Love does not complete me. It meets me where I already stand.
I choose myself. And I remain open to love without needing it to define me.
Connection is something I can want, without losing my center.
Even in moments of quiet longing, I am safe within myself.
And whatever comes, it will be addition, not repair.