Maybe romanticizing my life isn’t pretending the hard parts aren’t real. Maybe it’s choosing, every once in a while, to notice the charming parts too.
I’d love for intuition to arrive wearing a little name tag that says, “Hello, you may trust me.”
Unfortunately, anxiety apparently owns the same outfit.
So I’m learning to listen to what I feel without immediately believing everything it tells me.
We are quick to believe that if someone doesn’t care about something the way we do, they must not care enough. But what if disagreement doesn’t always reveal an absence of goodness? What if it simply reveals where someone’s tenderness lives?
