you're worthy of this (and more)
[ a note to my younger self ]
There are things I didn’t know I was worthy of. Not because I wasn’t—but because I didn’t know for myself. Even when people reminded me, the ache of past experiences made it hard to believe.
This is a note to her—my younger self—the one who gave so much so freely, even when it cost her more than she had to give.
You’re worthy of a love that doesn’t require you to shrink. A love that sees you in your sacred fullness and stays—not out of obligation, not out of infatuation or lust—but out of reverence. You’re worthy of a slow and soft life, even though you were raised in hustle and survival — of being held in moments you rely on your solitude for. You’re worthy of peace that doesn’t come with conditions. You don’t have to earn ease—you were made from it.
To the girl who made excuses for brokenness, who called confusion “passion”, chaos “chemistry”, and sex “love”—who learned how to hold silence in her throat because speaking up always meant losing someone. But here’s the truth: losing people who couldn’t see you or honor you was the beginning of seeing and honoring yourself.
You’re worthy of sacred pauses. of mornings where you don’t have to be productive to feel valuable. Of nights where you cry and don’t apologize for the tears. You’re worthy of friendships that feel like home, not superficial connections that lack consideration, thoughtfulness, and reciprocity. You’re worthy of walking away from any and every thing that forces you to prove your worth—not because you’re angry—but because you know who you are.
I healed in quiet moments—in long walks, in slow mornings, in cups of tea that tasted like safety. I healed when I stopped chasing closure and started choosing clarity. I healed when I looked in the mirror and no longer asked if I was enough. Instead, I asked—what parts of me did I silence for the illusion of being loved?
To the girl who thought her value depended on what she could offer: you are the offering. your presence is the gift. your peace is the miracle.
You’re worthy of being loved in your wholeness, not for what you can fix. You’re worthy of a mirror that doesn’t distort or try to hide your light. You’re worthy of softness, of slowness, of sacredness. To bloom in your own time. To return to yourself again and again. To take up space and not apologize. To call peace your home and never beg for belonging.
You are worthy simply because you are.
