when life finally starts to be kind to you

#page9

06.04.2025

I think I’ve spent too much of my life waiting.

Waiting to be chosen.

Waiting to be seen.

Waiting for peace to feel like something I didn’t have to chase down or beg for.

Waiting to feel like I deserved anything without having to hurt for it first.

Because when you’ve had to fight for everything,

for love, for space to exist, for a scrap of calm…you start to believe that struggle is the only language life understands.

That if something comes easily, it’s probably not meant for you.

That softness is a trap, and kindness always carries a receipt.

Somewhere along the way, that belief settled deep in me.

So even now, when something good happens, I flinch.

I question it. Hold it at arm’s length, like it might vanish the second I get comfortable.

And maybe that’s the wound I don’t know how to stop touching,

the fear that none of it is real, or worse… that I don’t deserve it.

There’s a version of me, maybe eight, maybe 13, maybe last year, who would look at my life now and cry from relief. Not because it’s perfect, but because it finally feels a little lighter. Because there are days now where I don’t feel like I’m at war with the world. But I’ve lived in fight mode for so long that I don’t know how to just be.

I hesitate. I hold back.

Because somewhere deep down, I still think happiness is something I have to earn.

That comfort is a loan.

That love, when it comes without conditions, must be a trick.

I keep waiting for the universe to snatch it back.

To remind me that nothing good is free.

To punish me for feeling okay.

Maybe that’s the saddest part of all. When you’ve had to fight for everything, you forget how to accept peace without suspicion.

But I’m trying.

Trying to believe that not everything has to hurt first.

Trying to welcome ease without guilt.

Trying to believe that some good things don’t have to be earned—they just are.

That love can arrive with open hands.

That peace can exist without a price.

I don’t have it all figured out.

But I want to. I want to stop apologizing for the light that’s finally finding its way in.

Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Stop shrinking every time something good finds me.

I want to believe that life is finally being kind to me.

And that I’m allowed to receive it.

Not just survive it.

This is your reminder:

You don’t have to earn what’s already yours. Not love. Not ease. Not being okay. Let yourself have it. Let yourself rest in it. Let yourself believe it’s real. You’ve done enough. Now, you’re allowed to receive. You’re allowed to stay.