In Which I Grasp for What I Already Have

gimme what I'm holding or else!

I recently fell in love again.

Now I know my heart and my patterns so well.

Being together felt like big easy breaths of connection, no attachments or stories whatsoever.

I told myself it could last, but I went on a gasping, grasping ride in the days following.

This time, all I did was hold space. I listened to me. I let me be in my process. I didn't drop my life, in fact, I doubled down on it.

This fearful part will grasp for safety everywhere but where it REALLY is. She wants a sense and an idea of something safe, something she learned early and wrong—what love looked like before she knew a threat, when she was only able to be in love with what IS.

It's my job to not just witness her but BE her, when she storms over me. Now I keep touch with my knowing that the something safe is here and now, mine I give to me.

I listen to her beg for it from every other place, like I would listen to a toddler who wants so desperately to put on the outfit she is already wearing, and she cannot put it on, because it is already on, and she cannot take it off, because she wants to be wearing it.

It felt like she would go on forever, like I would always be managing some tension of her upset, and I kept touch with the knowing that that is how she ALWAYS feels, and how I always feel when I am being her.

Then she went quiet. She IS a lover of what is, at the end of the day, when she's gotten over her ideas of what might be. She is too young to maintain her attention on something for very long, before the discoveries and curiosities of reality itself overcome her.

I'm back breathing easy. I've overcome my desire to receive what I already have. I've overcome my delusion that a circumstance can deliver me what is mine already.

What I'm really in love with, is exactly what is.