An ode to all my parts
I honor the part of me that learned to be intense
because intensity once kept me safe.
The part that stayed sharp, alert, powerful,
that knew how to move forward
when softness was dangerous.
I bless the part of me that carried pressure,
that believed strength meant holding it all together,
that thought love demanded effort, insight, and endurance.
I see you now.
You were trying to protect my life, my dignity, my becoming.
The time has come to release you from the job of constant vigilance.
You no longer have to brace.
You no longer have to prove.
You no longer have to lead every moment of my becoming.
I release the belief that intensity is the only doorway to aliveness.
I release the habit of mistaking charge for truth
and power for connection.
I release the old urgency that says,
if I soften,
I will disappear.
I bless the grief I’ve been carrying
of having to be strong too soon, and too long;
of learning how to hold myself
before I ever felt truly held.
I allow the grief to go now.
To drain, like warm water leaving the body.
and return to the earth, where it can be composted
into something gentler and more beautiful.
And it’s place, I welcome the part of me that knows
intimacy does not require strain.
That presence can be quiet.
That love can be mutual, steady, and kind.
That I do not have to earn it, but receive it.
I allow myself to soften without collapsing.
To open without losing myself.
To trust that I can meet what comes
with discernment, not defence.
May the parts of me that led with intensity
become wise companions rather than exhausted guardians.
May they rest, integrate, and take their rightful place
within a larger, more spacious whole.
Thank you intensity for how long you carried me.
You may lay your armor down now.
I am here.
I am safe enough.
I am learning a new way.
Blessed Be and So It Is.