settle for less? never that
i don’t know who needs to hear this. maybe it’s a reminder for me. but crumbs? we’re not receiving that. not in this timeline. not in this frequency. not in this version of you who has walked through fire, bathed in ash, risen like a whole phoenix and still managed to serve softness on a silver platter.
you are the feast. full-bodied. richly flavored. seasoned by experience. sweetened by soul. you are the nourishment people dream about and fumble when they haven’t done the work to receive it. yet, somehow… somewhere along the way, you convinced yourself that scraps were enough, that the bare minimum could sustain a soul like yours. maybe if you waited long enough. maybe if you gave more grace. maybe if you kept quiet and played small and didn’t take up too much space.
nope. never again
here’s the truth: you were never meant root yourself where you’re not watered. you were never made to shrink into silence, to ration your joy, to beg for consistency, to explain why you’re worthy, to chase someone just to be seen. you don’t need to be invited to a table someone else built: you are the table. handcrafted. sacred. solid. and the meal? that’s your essence: your joy, your peace, your discernment, your softness and your sharpness, your insight, your laughter, your ability to hold and command space. your presence that takes up space.
that’s the main course, baby.
so when someone offers you crumbs, when they forget your birthday but remember to watch your stories, when they only call when they need something, when they praise your softness but disrespect your boundaries, when they disappear in your lows but reappear in your glow. when they dismiss your contribution in conversation. when they take advantage of your presence, but desire you when you’re absent. that is not your portion.
let’s be clear: this isn’t just about romance. this is about any space where you’re being asked to shrink. if you have to dull your shine to keep the peace. if your wins feel “too much” to share. if your intuitive knowing is always questioned. if reciprocity feels like a reward instead of a rhythm. it’s not alignment. it’s spiritual indigestion. let it go.
your table is meant to bless you. to nourish you. to see you. so in this era of your life, you don’t beg for bread, you bake the damn loaf and you feed the parts of yourself that forgot how full you’ve always been. because your appetite is sacred now. and no, you’re not greedy. you just finally know your worth, and you’re not dimming or shrinking for anybody.
here’s the invitation: walk away from anything that doesn’t embrace your fullness. set your table with sacred things. sit with people who pour into you without performance. and remember, you are the feast.
