Most of us learned early that love was conditional,
That to keep it you had to earn it,
Perform it,
Prove it.
That's the enoughness wound.
It's the voice that lives in your body and whispers,
Do more,
Give more,
Be more,
Before you rest,
Before you breathe,
Before you're safe.
Maybe you know that voice,
The one that counts the ways you fell short,
The one that asks,
Was it enough?
Did I try enough?
Did I cry enough to be believed?
I know it well,
I've carried it my whole life,
And here's what I've learned,
The one who asked that question isn't your present day self,
It's your younger self,
The child who learned that love could be lost without warning,
The child who thought they had to smile when they were hurting,
The child who turned themselves inside out to be wanted,
The child who never knew what it was like to be stayed with.
They don't want your proof.
They want your presence.
They want you to stay when the grief feels messy and the silence feels awkward.
They want you to say,
Without rushing,
Without bargaining and without turning away,
I'm here.
You don't have to earn this anymore.
You don't have to prove it anymore.
You are enough,
Even now.
And every time you stay instead of abandon,
That's the proof.
Every time you choose presence over performance,
You're rewiring a lifetime.
You're teaching that child inside you what no one taught you,
That enoughness was never out there to be earned.
It was always here,
In you,
Waiting to be remembered.