Recently I realized how much I let go in the name of being accepted by my partner or in the excuse of having a child.
Putting these flaws on pause for a lil while was okay, to rest my heart and head in the receptive coziness of unconditional love. But, I’m a creature with a co-dependent love of comfort.
The curse of being heavily blessed with earth signs is we seek to root in just about any place, including places that don’t feel good but serves a purpose. For example, I remember how I both loved and hated misery. I stayed miserable because it made me FEEL alive, but it didn’t feel good to be alive the way I was living.
I can hear the echoes of my roots stretching her wooden antennas, taking form in the warmth of external validation, not to say people given validation is all poopery. I overindulged in giving up on my own betterment in certain areas because that’s what trauma does when it’s finally cared for: you somehow let go of making effort to be better.
I let go of being better for that taste of my roots being cared for. Yea, I want to be accepted for my *now* flaws, but it’s dangerous to stop putting effort into my *future* self.