There’s a new me growing, and I like her.
She’s kinder. She’s happier. She more willing to open her eyes and see past what presents.
She’s talks to herself nicer. She reminds patience, nudges herself that she doesn’t know the book unless she’s read it.
She talks to people. She wants to know them.
She notices things.
The last week or so of my life has been, with the exception of one week when I was younger, the hardest of my life. I can’t even begin to describe the agony, of all of it.
Then something strange occurred.
All of you stood up, and wrapped me in your support. Not agreement, not consent. But strength. A core I could fall back into slightly, and be supported by.
You helped me remember that people aren’t bad. That sometimes strength is letting go, allowing others to be strong for you. You helped me look inside myself and realize that hey, I like me, or rather that there is a person there worth liking, and loving. That I mattered.
I cannot thank you for this, not in any way that is meaningful. I feel that I have birthed myself again, and all of you have been my doulas, my protectors. The glow I have held inside me, my firelight, is filled by the light that all of you sent to me, unasked, unexpectedly.
I feel so proud to know each and every one of you, my friends, some of you I’ve never even met, voices I’ve never truly heard. But where it matters, how it matters, you are friends.
I am blessed to have this in my life, and it warms me even as I sit here.
So thank you. Know that each of you have made a difference this week, and your spirits, your voices, are each a tiny piece of a new beginning for me. And I delight in this.
You make me better.