Softness
I value being let in, leaned on, trusted. There are people I no longer speak to whose secrets I will always keep, no matter what. Because my love/care/attention/trust is not conditional. I am not conditional. I don’t run away—I run toward. I make a promise, and I keep it—changing circumstances be damned.
There are people, however, who are conditional. And I will never understand them. I have been let down in the past, and that’s why I value honesty above all else. Not perfect promises, but follow through. Follow through is hot. Because I will move mountains for those I care about, always. And to be met in the middle is a hell of a thing, and I deeply appreciate those who say what they say and mean it.
I want to be there for those in my life, when they need me. When things get real, when life goes sideways. Because that’s when we need people the most. It’s fun and fine to show up when things are good and easy. Those are joys. And I always happy to celebrate and laugh over pasta. Pass the wine, and let’s be silly for no reason. Silliness is good for your heart. Dancing to music while cooking, singing along to the radio. I like intimacy and understanding of shared conversations and sharing, the kind of frisson of delight from being in each other’s orbit.
But being there when needed is a privilege. I am someone who will always find a way. In fact, the other week, I was happily contemplating something a bit over-the-top without a second thought. (My mom always used to say I would find a way, and she was not wrong.) But that’s the thing about me: I throw my entire weight behind my own heart. Always have, always will. It’s a feature, not a bug.
The softest thing we can do, sometimes, is show up. I believe that with my whole being, no question. When I offer to be there, it is with intention. When I give someone a compliment or offer to make plans, it’s genuine. I don’t do or say anything by accident. I have anxiety and I’m a champion overthinker. Whatever comes out of my mouth has been vetted by my heart.
I hope to always be a person that someone can feel at ease calling on when things get hard. When they need a person. And I hope to continue to invite those into my life who don’t mind that I talk too much, have too many feelings, and genuinely want to know things. Who seem amused by open, mad little heart and who have done much to soothe the old ache of feeling like I am too much. Sometimes, the scars we carry are like constellations no one else can see. But a gentle word or bit of care can rearrange those stars into something prettier, something new, something that no longer feels like pain.
Even—perhaps often—without meaning to. Sometimes, we show up in ways we don’t even realize. And that, kittens, is everything.