I used to find it hard to relax in relationships because I hated the idea of being seen in all my hideous imperfection, my anxiety and neediness. I think one of the most helpful things I’ve realized over time is that I don’t need to be perfect to be loved. That what I actually need is to allow myself to be known, to let someone see as much of me as possible. That what binds two people together is seeing all the ugliness and still miraculously, improbably, choosing each other.
ReadUp Readers don’t need therapists when we have Ava.
Mirror is held up Unwavering and Polished Clear as Fuck.
What a goddess of HomeRun Realness.
I’ve been Crazy In Love due to trying to control a perfect narrative ideal of relationship architecture based on “freedom” when really I wasn’t 110% embracing the non-exclusive lover’s vocalized essential nature and was chained to an ideal of my own “freedom” that truthfully wasn’t free because on a deep level I was writing a perfect narrative that I could change them for a happily ever after.
The narrative I was creating was meant to be transparent as fuck to prevent internal corruption of jealously, comparison, and vulnerability of disease - yet by over communicating and overthinking in effort to prevent, prevent, prevent...I was making Everything 10x’s Worse.
Old patterns I am elevating narratives of include possessive, obsessive, stalkery, depressive, suicidal ideation shit.
With each retrograde experience I Am Strengthening the new narrative and dancing with the shadow work of old, ancients that don’t serve me anymore.
Update (3/19/2021):
On my less ugly and hideous side of shadow work I have hopeless romanticism desires of expression and creativity like jumping beans ready to burst out from within and learning how to maintain that manifestive expression in the wake of less status quo rose-colored glass sentimentalism ,cliche-dom is proving a bit of a delicate balance.
What I have to remind myself is Love Is A Verb and if I am forcing an expression too hard the reality is that expression isn’t the most tenderly heart-felt authentic.
Ava puts out incredible pieces. I'm so glad to have discovered her writing on Readup. What beautiful words.
"if we want the rewards of being loved we have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known."
Only when they truly know you, can they truly love you
Thank you Sooooo Much. This Deep Dose is Legit and Healing.
🙏👍
ReadUp Readers don’t need therapists when we have Ava.
Mirror is held up Unwavering and Polished Clear as Fuck. What a goddess of HomeRun Realness.
I’ve been Crazy In Love due to trying to control a perfect narrative ideal of relationship architecture based on “freedom” when really I wasn’t 110% embracing the non-exclusive lover’s vocalized essential nature and was chained to an ideal of my own “freedom” that truthfully wasn’t free because on a deep level I was writing a perfect narrative that I could change them for a happily ever after. The narrative I was creating was meant to be transparent as fuck to prevent internal corruption of jealously, comparison, and vulnerability of disease - yet by over communicating and overthinking in effort to prevent, prevent, prevent...I was making Everything 10x’s Worse.
Old patterns I am elevating narratives of include possessive, obsessive, stalkery, depressive, suicidal ideation shit.
With each retrograde experience I Am Strengthening the new narrative and dancing with the shadow work of old, ancients that don’t serve me anymore.
On my less ugly and hideous side of shadow work I have hopeless romanticism desires of expression and creativity like jumping beans ready to burst out from within and learning how to maintain that manifestive expression in the wake of less status quo rose-colored glass sentimentalism ,cliche-dom is proving a bit of a delicate balance.
What I have to remind myself is Love Is A Verb and if I am forcing an expression too hard the reality is that expression isn’t the most tenderly heart-felt authentic.