On Self: Love, Trust, Compassion

A journal entry.

A journal entry.

So I said no. I did the right thing for me. And I am so proud of myself for that. I am so proud of myself for the ways in which I am learning and growing and changing. This is (and feels) miraculous at some level.

And it’s more than this.

Photo by McKenna Phillips on Unsplash

I don’t think we can be friends. But perhaps I am projecting, too. It’s a strange place that we have come to. To feel like you know someone well, and (perhaps) vice-versa, whilst understanding that in many ways you do not know them at all.

I can no longer lie to myself about what I want. I can no longer deny myself my right *to* want. I am allowed to want. I am allowed to have. I am allowed to break free.

I am allowed to radically re-assess everything I thought I knew.

When I say, “I don’t think we can be friends”, what do I really mean? It’s not about love or sex or even attachment. It’s about the nature of the connection that we share. We are not just friends. Or perhaps I just haven’t had enough friends like this.

I let go because connection alone is enough.

Because this experience alone is enough.

And because I am so profoundly grateful for what this has shown and taught me.

I am love and I am loved and I felt it, viscerally. I feel it, even. I can be heard and seen. I can be held. And I can be wild, too. I am unfolding. Unfurling like the petals of a flower. But I am not your flower. You may think that you have picked me but my stem is my own. I stand alone. I belong to myself. And I have never felt such love for or conviction in myself.

We forgive because we deserve peace.

And when we confront what we desire and fear, we understand what we must relinquish.