I never knew the ache could be my friend.
For so long, as expected and encouraged, I ran from it.
I closed myself down, hid in a locked room in the dark corners.
Though hiding never shielded me from what breaks the heart,
I could dull the blade, keep the blow from landing clean.

I wrapped it in pretty words,
built walls of analytic protection,
fortresses of thought,
reason sharpened like armor.

But walking this long road,
stumbling as I went,
grasping at the nails of self just to stay upright,
I grew tired of the wall’s weight.

They crumbled.
The ache rushed in whole,
breath stolen,
knees to earth.

In that moment of surrender,
with the white flag trembling in my own hand,
I waited for the sacrifice.
Prepared myself for the cut.

Instead the walls fell to dust.
The gravity of ache pulled me open,
and my heart was overcome
with every ounce of love
that had always been holding me up.

It was then
the truth opened within me.
I am whole.
I am loved.
I am grateful
for the wealth and wonder
of the gift of this life.

The Bridge — the place where surrender becomes belonging

My story is only one doorway. Yours will have its own shape, its own ache, its own collapse of walls. But the truth remains the same: when we stop running, the heart opens, and we find ourselves held by a love that has been waiting all along.