Here’s to the things you no longer do. To the love that you no longer give. To the people whom you no longer understand. To the boundaries that you no longer cross. To the jokes that you no longer laugh at. Here’s to the things you no longer do for you’ve chosen to be truer to yourself.
Here’s to your inability to become what they asked of you. To your inability to hold yourself together when you are supposed to. To your inability to feel complete by yourself. To your inability to do it alone. Here’s to your inability to become what they asked of you for you’ve allowed yourself to need, and to be alright with that.
Here’s to the things that you didn’t see coming. To the blocks, the filters, and the walls that you’ve developed around your heart. To the ones that you didn’t, no matter how many times you tried. To the vulnerability that’s retreated into nooks within you. Here’s to the things you didn’t see coming but that came and stayed because you did not discount your experiences while restructuring your beliefs.
Here’s to the shifts that make you feel less than. To the pain that now comes faster and falls harder. To the joy that now comes slower and wanes quicker. To the trust that’s become an elaborate construction. To the loss of your desire to give with wild abandon. To your care that’s now measured and doled out in calculated doses. Here’s to the shifts that make you feel less than because you’ve known that there are forces greater than you to which you’ve surrendered.
Here’s to your flaws. To the ones that you’ve embraced. To the ones that you’ve worked on. To the new ones that you’ve added. Here’s to the flaws that you do not deny, for denying it would be denying the truth to your stories.
Here’s to your goodness. To your ability to accept although many have shunned you. To your courage to stay although many have left you behind. To your desire to remember although many have forgotten you. Here’s to your goodness that you boldly embody even when the world cannot see it, or believe in it.
It takes extraordinary strength to give yourself the permission to become who you’re becoming. To not hold back your evolution with images you have of who you are. To not tear yourself down because you are turning out different from whom you thought you’d be. To allow both the light and the darkness to abide by each other, and to remember your core even when the scales tip back and forth over and over again.
None of us emerges as perfect. We become an odd concoction of our experiences. All we can do is wear that patchwork of mistakes, love, and heartbreak with pride and own who we are in the moment.
And here’s to that.