The turning point

When she tells you she is breaking, remind her of what she is making. A new version of her soul is being birthed and no one expected it to be pretty. It looks less like the perfect hair and more like sweat dripping off her face. It looks nothing like the perfect makeup, and rather a lot more like waking up at 4.30am sleepy-eyed to fight for herself.

I dreamed today of a man asking me while looking deep into my eyes, and straight at my soul: “Did I use every gift I was given? Did I wield every tool my pitfalls have inspired me to have crafted?” and the answer is hell no! I’ve fallen so short. I’ve let fear stand in my way and I’ve waited for too long to stand tall and strong in this body.

Until now.

Until I needed to believe in someone and something again and I finally chose myself. I wish I could recognise or see the final woman I will be, but this whole process seems foreign. She is becoming but for the first time ever I feel like I might have an actual chance at creating in this world what I was meant to create. It cost me everything leaving, but I see now that I am meant to be of service first and foremost. Last week I was selfish and said I didn’t want to help the world and so what I was here to do if I couldn’t have love and in that moment I realised.

I DO have love. One that won’t leave me. One that won’t change its mind. One that is always here to stay. It’s always been me.

But this relationship must be cultivated and given to every single day. This girl is finally my priority.

I get it now.