The Self You Buried To Stay Loved

Sometimes we learn that being loved means becoming easier to love. We soften the no before it reaches our lips. We agree when something inside us wants to pull away. We make ourselves smaller, quieter, more accommodating. We learn which parts of us are welcomed and which seem to make love harder to hold onto. And slowly, almost without noticing, we begin leaving pieces of ourselves behind.

Transcript

There is a version of you that learned to disappear. Long before she ever had the language to explain why. A version who set parts of herself aside. So she could stay connected. Included. We're simply safe. You do not bury the self by choice. You buried her out of instinct. The quiet wisdom of the young body. Trying to keep love within reach. You softened pieces of yourself when they felt too sharp for others. You quietened your needs when the room could not hold them. He dimmed your truth to match the people who needed you smaller. This buried self did not disappear. She sank beneath the surface, Waiting. Watching. Holding everything. You did not have permission to feel. She is the one. I swallowed the hurt. You were never allowed to name. She is the one who held your joy when it was met with envy or discomfort. She is the one. Step back. So others could step forward. At your expense. Her silence became your survival. Her hiding became your safety. Her absence became the version of you the world learned to accept. But the truth is. . . You were never meant to live without her. She carries your earliest courage, Your fiercest clarity. Your instinct for what feels right. Your first experience of aliveness before fear shaped your edges. As you grow. As your body unlearns what it once had to do to belong. You start to feel her again. Rising quietly beneath your ribs like a warmth you cannot ignore. But pull towards yourself. That feels both new and strangely familiar. You may notice her in the moments you hesitate before saying yes. And the small truths that escape your mouth before you can soften them. In a way your spine straightens. Without permission. And something inside you whispers enough. She's not angry with you. For leaving her behind, She understands why you did it. She knows the cost of fitting in. She knows the fear of losing love for simply being herself. But now? She's ready to return. Not in a rush, Not in a blaze of rebellion. But in slow, Steady threads of truth. The return of this buried self feels like a remembering. It feels like recognizing your own voice after years of speaking quietly. It feels like stepping back into your body. After living in the shadows of all the people's needs. To welcome her. You do not need to change your life overnight. You only need to stop abandoning yourself. In a ways you once did. To stay alive. Start with the smallest things. Say no. When every part of you tightens at the thought of saying yes. Let your face show what you feel, Even if someone else prefers the softer version. Let your breath deepen. When you tell the truth. Let your presence stay. Even when your old instinct tells you to disappear. These moments matter. They are how the lost parts of you come home. The self he buried has been waiting with patience and loyalty. Knowing that one day your life would become wide enough, Safe enough, Honest enough for her to rise again. Now. She is rising. Not to break you open. But to make you whole.

Reviews

This touched something deep inside. Such beautiful words, thank you 💚