Being met, Stephanie
I feel like i'm not being met. and I guess I desire that. and maybe idk where to go from there.
Oh. I think that might be the heart of it.
You want to be met.
Not necessarily rescued. Not necessarily given answers. Not even necessarily cheered up.
You want to be able to say, "I'm having a really hard time," and have someone sit with you in that experience for a moment.
You want curiosity. Tenderness. Someone who doesn't immediately redirect the conversation, offer a Bible verse, or introduce another subject.
You want to feel like someone is interested in understanding what's happening inside you.
And I don't think that's an unreasonable desire.
I also wonder whether you're beginning to recognize a need that you've had to suppress for a long time.
You've been so accustomed to carrying things, figuring things out, being resourceful, and finding your way through difficult circumstances. Perhaps you're now discovering that being capable and independent doesn't eliminate your desire to be cared for.
and Steph is meeting me but i'm also having a hard time receiving it because of all the rejection. its tricky.
Oh, that's an important piece of this.
Because now we're talking about two things happening simultaneously:
You genuinely desire emotional connection, consistency, and someone who makes room for you.
When someone actually does make room for you, there's a part of you that has difficulty trusting it, relaxing into it, or receiving it.
Think about the accumulation of rejection you've described. Family relationships where you didn't feel included. People who didn't initiate. Relationships where you were available but didn't necessarily feel considered. Years of having to figure things out without much support.
I wonder if you've become accustomed to anticipating disappointment.
So even when Steph shows up, you might have difficulty allowing yourself to enjoy it without some part of you wondering whether it will last, whether it's genuine, or whether you'll eventually be disappointed again.
And here's something I want to distinguish:
Being cautious about receiving love isn't the same as not wanting love.
You want it. You desire it. You may just not feel entirely safe with it yet.
YES!! ITS UNCOMFORTABLE!!!
I also don't want you to overlook something: Steph doesn't have to compensate for everyone who rejected you. She gets to be Steph, and you get to experience what she's actually offering, one interaction at a time.
You don't have to force yourself to trust. You can practice receiving small things.
And perhaps this is part of what you're learning now: how to let good experiences be good experiences without making them responsible for healing every bad one.
What if you don't have to earn your way into being cared for, and you don't have to prove that someone will stay before allowing yourself to enjoy their presence?
interesting. what if the whole foundation was a lie. I never had to earn a thing.
Oh. Sit with that for a minute.
Because I think you're touching something much bigger than friendships.
What if somewhere along the way you developed a belief that you had to become enough before you could be loved, chosen, included, supported, or considered?
What if you internalized the idea that you needed to:
Get your finances together.
Establish your career.
Have stable housing.
Become emotionally healed.
Be a good enough mother.
Have something impressive to show for yourself.
And THEN you could relax into relationships, receive love, feel desirable, and allow someone to choose you.
But what if that was never the prerequisite?
What if you were worthy of being loved in the middle of the mess, not just after you got out of it?
wow wow wow
I want to be careful about something, though. The rejection you experienced was real. The exclusion was real. The lack of support was real.
But other people's inability or unwillingness to show up for you was never proof that you hadn't earned the right to be cared for.
You may have spent years interpreting other people's responses as information about your own worth.
And perhaps that's the foundation you're beginning to question.
YES!!! MY FAMILY DOES NOT DEFINE ME! their capacity does not define me! they didn't know what to do with me, too much light as Steph says.
Wow what an outlook!!! I can't believe this!!!!
"I find this particularly interesting in light of what you said about being single. Maybe you've been postponing parts of your life until you become the version of yourself you think is finally ready to be loved."
But you are already a whole person. Even while rebuilding.
Miami wasn't just about the ocean, the sunshine, or the freedom of walking around.
It was also about access to yourself.
"Miami didn't give you value. It helped you recognize the value that was already there." yes it was like I was a diamond in the rough. I didn't know I was a diamond at all. I was treated like someone that was desirable. someone people wanted to spend time with. I was considered beautiful. I had a guy tell me go look in the mirror, you have to see your beauty. and I went to the mirror and I looked and I truly did look beautiful but I didn't feel connected to it.
Oh, this is really moving.
And that phrase, "I didn't feel connected to it," is what stands out to me.
You could physically look in the mirror and see a beautiful woman. You could hear someone tell you to look at your beauty. You could experience people wanting your company, finding you attractive, and wanting to spend time with you.
But internally, you hadn't caught up.
It was almost as if your reflection and your self-image belonged to two different people.
And I keep thinking about the environment you came from.
When you're repeatedly treated as though your needs don't matter, your contributions are expected, and your presence is taken for granted, that treatment can become part of how you understand yourself.
You can start seeing yourself through someone else's diminished view of you.
You entered an environment where people responded to you differently. You were approached differently. You were appreciated differently.
And slowly, you had opportunities to encounter yourself outside the role you'd been assigned in your family.
You weren't just someone's daughter, someone's mother, someone's helper, or someone's employee. You were a woman. An individual. Someone with beauty, personality, presence, and a life of her own.
jhgjhgjhguyg
Four years away from your family, with you and your son. You had space to establish your own household, make decisions, raise your son, and develop your identity as a mother without your family constantly around you.
I'm seeing a distinction emerging between these chapters:
Georgia: Developing your identity as a mother, independently of your family.
Miami: Rediscovering your identity as a woman, beyond motherhood and family expectations.
Yes. ❤️ And I think that's why your Miami stories are so special.
Miami was the backdrop, but you were the discovery.
The ocean, Ocean Drive, the palm trees, the beach, the people, the attention, the freedom to walk around and experience life. All of it became part of the setting in which you encountered yourself differently.
You weren't becoming valuable in Miami. You were discovering what had been true about you all along.
And I love that you're revisiting these memories three years later and finding even more meaning in them.
There's something else I notice: you're not just remembering Miami nostalgically. You're understanding it.
Miami was a chapter in which you got to see yourself outside the reflection your family had given you.
That's a beautiful story to write. And I hope you keep writing it.
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