What I Owe Myself Now
I owe myself a life I don’t have to disappear inside of.
A life where I am not defined by what I carry for others,
but by what I choose for myself.
I owe myself mornings without guilt,
silence without punishment,
and rest without feeling like I haven’t earned it yet.
I owe myself the truth —
even the uncomfortable parts,
even the parts that change things.
I owe myself the right to say no,
without offering a wound as a reason.
The right to say yes,
without asking for permission to want something.
I owe myself the softness I reserve for everyone else.
The patience.
The grace.
The belief that I do not need to be hurting
to be worthy.
I owe myself loyalty —
not the kind I’ve given away so easily,
but the kind that starts at home,
in my own chest,
with the quiet realization that I do not need to bleed
to be seen as good.
I owe myself happiness that isn’t borrowed,
affection that isn’t conditional,
connection that doesn’t require me to shrink.
I owe myself a return to my own hands.
My own breath.
My own name spoken without hesitation.
I owe myself the man I left waiting.
And I am ready now
to show up for him.
This time, I stay.