This year has stretched me in ways I didn’t see coming. I’ve had to learn the quiet art of release ~ of leaving people where they’ve chosen to stand, even when my heart longed for them to come closer.

There’s a deep ache in realizing that not everyone will meet you with the same effort or care, no matter how much you offer. For a time, I wrestled with it ~

turning inward, questioning myself, wondering if I was the problem.

But slowly, I began to understand:

you can’t keep holding the rope when the other end has already slipped away. Gripping tighter only leaves you marked with bruises that don’t easily fade. I’ve also discovered that not everything deserves my reaction.

That one is harder ~

my instinct is to defend, explain, to make my voice heard.

But I’ve come to see that not every battle brings peace;

sometimes silence carries more strength than words ever could. The truth is, healing doesn’t happen in a straight line. Some days, the pain still feels raw, and the lessons feel fragile in my hands.

But step by step, I’m learning that letting go ~

of people, of control, of the need to fix what isn’t mine to fix ~

isn’t weakness. It’s the beginning of freedom.

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