An Open Letter To My Gut

Open hands holding blue crayons with dark lighting in Brussels
Gaelle Marcel / Unsplash

I am so sorry. I really am. I know I didn’t listen and you tried to tell me.

You always have. You never give up on me, and yet I never fully believe in you. I tell myself you are fear or fault finding. I tell myself you are perfectionism.

You are the path. You are the truth. You are my gut, an extension of my heart. Time and time again I learn that you are always right.

I learn because I push forward anyway, despite your many warnings. I love the man you know will hurt me. I take the job you say will burn me out.

I believe and I hope that I know better than you. If I try harder. If I control it more. If I just act better. If I’m just less like me. Then, then it will work out the way I want it too.

You know better. You know that the way I want it to work isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You know that what I want and need are very different indeed.

I know that now. You saw him how he was. I saw him how I hoped he’d be. I saw a seat reserved next to mine at weddings and a partner to face family events with and his name handwritten next to mine in greetings cards.

I could, therefore, overlook the glaringly obvious facts of the situation. The facts you won’t let me deviate from, not even for a second.

You know that something better is coming. I’ve stopped listening and started controlling again. I have forgotten my worth. I have forgotten the power and beauty of surrender.

I am so sorry.

I could promise that I will always listen to you in future but we both know that I won’t. It’s not because I don’t know better. I do. It’s just that I have to learn the hard way. The soft way doesn’t work.

I need to feel the sting. I need to feel the crushing weight of regret in my chest. I need to learn for myself that too good to be true is exactly that. I need to remember that instant gratification doesn’t have a thing on the very real and very slow burn of true intimacy. I need to recognize that just because a man desires my body doesn’t mean that he values me. He doesn’t see all that I am.

I might not listen to you every time but I do promise you this. I promise to give you a megaphone. I promise to give you a soapbox. I promise to find a way to you in the exact moment I want to bury you deeper inside so I don’t have to hear whatever it is you are duty bound to say.

I promise to love you, and thank you, and be grateful for you and to take full responsibility for the consequences of the decisions I make every time I knowingly ignore you. No more, ‘if only’ this or ‘what if’ that. You told me where each road leads but I chose not to look and bounded forward anyway.

I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I really am.

I will take better care of us, imperfectly. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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