Give Without Extinguishing

Look, we have two choices:

We can make each other’s lives better — or not.
We can support each other and spread kindness — or not.
We can listen to each other’s stories.
We can share our hearts.
We can share our pain —

or not.

Stop skipping across the surface like a stone.
Aren’t we all struggling with something?
Aren’t we all in need of some light —
the kind that shines when our eyes meet,
and a smile spreads from you to me?

To hold my vulnerability in your hands,
you have to be able to hold your own first.

To make space for my pain,
you have to make space for your own.

We can’t do for others — not truly —
what we haven’t learned to do for ourselves.

It can be lonely out there — so lonely.
Even with the flashing screens
and the constant connection.

We all feel it — that restlessness,
an ache for something more.
We want to feel alive, and seen, and felt.
We want people who can meet us in that space — and not flinch.

Saying things to each other doesn’t mean much
if there’s no heart in it.
No soul.

I think about this constantly.

But I also want to protect my heart.
Sometimes, I give more than I should.
Sometimes, I give so much there’s nothing left.
Sometimes, I give until I disappear.

That doesn’t make me a hero.
It makes me a woman still learning how to honor herself.

It’s a balance — and we have to do both:
We have to ebb, to flow.
We have to wane, to wax.
We have to be healing, to heal.
We have to reach in, to reach out.

We have to love ourselves to love anyone else.

That’s how you give your light without extinguishing it.

Writing Prompt:

How do you love yourself when no one’s watching? What does it mean to hold space for your own ache, before holding someone else’s?