Dear fears,
I used to hate you.
I used to believe you meant something was wrong with me —
that doubt and softness and trembling meant I wasn’t enough.
But I’m learning that you’re not here to ruin me.
You’re here to show me where I still need gentleness.
Where I still need patience.
Where I still don’t trust myself fully… yet.
You show up in the quiet moments —
when I’m alone, or tired, or honest.
And instead of pushing you away,
I’m trying to sit with you.
To listen.
To understand what you’re protecting me from.
I don’t want to fight you anymore.
I want to hold you — carefully, calmly —
the way I hold the younger version of myself who didn’t know better.
Maybe one day you’ll soften.
Or maybe you won’t.
Either way… I won’t abandon myself again because of you.
We’re learning each other.
Slowly. Gently. Imperfectly.
—k
all my imperfects. 