There was a time when that place felt like home to me. ❤️🩹 I was able to be softer there, more honest, and for a while, I felt safe in ways I had not before. It held a version of my life that meant a lot to me, even in the small, ordinary moments that no one else would notice. 🍲 Over time, something shifted. Not all at once, and not in a way I could clearly explain, just enough that it stopped feeling the same to me. I carried that feeling quietly for a while, trying to understand it, trying to sit with it.
In the end, I didn’t have the right words. I still don’t fully. So I left. 🏃 Quietly, without turning it into something big or final from the outside. Just stepping away from something that had once been important to me, even if I couldn’t fully explain why it no longer felt like somewhere I could stay. 🐕 I know it may have seemed sudden. I’ve thought about that too, more than once. But it came from a place of trying to take care of myself the best way I knew how at the time.
What we had was real to me. The closeness, the conversations, the shared moments, the sense of belonging. I carry those memories with care.
I found my community, and I lost it. I am grateful for it. Now I am making use of whatever I have to feel enough everyday. 🫂 And even though not everything can be explained or understood, it doesn’t make it less meaningful. Some things stay with you, even after you’ve left them behind.
I’m still learning how to hold both things at once, what was, and where I am now.
And I carry it all with me, quietly, in my own way.
