730 Days. Two years... I survived

730 days.

Two years.

I survived...

And not just barely, I came through the other side of something that tried to convince me I was the problem. That I was too much, or not enough, or somehow unlovable. I believed it for a long time. 

But my story changed. And now I know... I was never damaged. I just hadn't been loved properly yet. Loved in a way that lets you rest. Loved in a way that feels safe enough to be fully yourself. 

Loved in a way that reflects back to you what you always deserved. That kind of love exists, girlies. I am living proof. 😌

Don't give up on it. But please, do not enslave yourself chasing it either. You should never have to shrink, suffer, or beg for something that is supposed to feel like home.

Real love feels like exhaling.

Real love feels like rest.

Real love lets you live fully inside your femininity without fighting for your place in it.

I have that now. And I want it for every single one of you.

I love you. 🤍