The gift of friendship

Occasionally, you meet someone who wakes up a part of you that may have been forgotten. A part so far internally withheld, that it might be completely forgotten to have ever existed.  It’s usually a passion.  A passion for reading.  A passion for language.  A passion for music.  A passion for caring for yourself? For believing in your self worth?  Those people exist.  And those people are gifts.  

It’s not that I want to put the credit on any one person, in my life, for making me want to love myself again, but at different points in my life, where I might have forgotten to love myself, I have found what I didn’t know I needed.

The strength to leave an abusive relationship, the strength to stay away from the abusive relationship, the  wisdom to believe I was worthy of being treated with respect by another person, those were all gifts that other people helped me find.  Now there’s the person that wants to give me the gift to believe I don’t have to settle.  To believe I’m worth the life I feel like I should be living… and I’m resisting.  Because this life, this life I’ve created is so so sweet.  It’s so normal.  It’s everything I’ve thought I’ve always wanted.  Except it’s not.  

I know I want more.  I know I want passion and adventure.   It safety and routine.  And now that I know that, how am I ever supposed to be ok with just being again?