{{first_name|Darling}}

I used to think love meant adrenaline.
That the ache meant it was real.
That the chaos meant I was wanted.

Turns out… I was just repeating what my body learned in childhood.
No one taught me that directly.
But I absorbed it.
In the noise.
In the not-quite-safe moments.
In the unpredictable highs and heartbreaking lows.
It became my default love language: chaos.

So when love arrived in softness…
When someone stayed calm instead of storming out…
When things were steady, safe, even boring —
My nervous system whispered: this can’t be right.
And honestly?
That whisper has sabotaged a lot of good things in my life.

🌊

We don’t talk enough about how much we absorb as children.
The tone. The temperature. The tension in the room.
Before we even know how to name our needs,
we’re learning how to get them met.

So maybe you learned:
That you have to earn rest.
That softness is weak.
That love leaves.
That success costs peace.
That emotions make you unlovable.
That it’s safer to please than to be honest.

But here’s the thing…
You didn’t choose those beliefs.
You inherited them.

And what’s inherited can be rewritten.

With love,
M x