Journey to Softness

I’ve heard many declare that they’re in their “Soft Life” life era. I love that for them—THIS IS NOT THAT.

Recently, I suffered a loss on the heels of loss. In the face of grief, I danced with opportunity to be strong, guarded, and aloof or tiptoe onto the foreign grounds of grace. Embracing the journey to the latter, I have learned how to breathe. This isn’t a metaphorical measure. Life had gripped me in such a way that I found myself pressing through moments holding my breath. Asphyxiated by the anxiety of the consequence of feeling. If I were to breathe… would it trigger a breakdown of overwhelm? Would I be able to recover from an exhale?

I did. I did breathe. I did breakdown. I did recover.

Engulfed by the multitude of tears my heart began to ask for what it needed; queries kindled from me to me. Permission to heal? Permission to be embraced? Permission to dwell in the safety of being perceived, seen? It’s a major milestone to overcome the opposition of the world. It (the world) has a reputation of frigid forces, but we often forget to nurture what is left.

It’s not enough to become a warrior with badges of resilience, if my delicate nature gets buried by the weight of strength that I didn’t intentionally pursue. I’m sensitive. I feel deeply. I want to be soft again.

Journey with me, to locate the roots of my innocence. To sail the ship of exploration upon the waters of my preferences. Hike the mount of excitement with me as I seek to find fun and laughter. A revolutionary reclamation of me.

I’ve already ascertained expert-level survival skills; I can see through danger afar off and execute an operational plan of war. I don’t know how to rest in safety, though. So, this journey is one of intentionality. Foreign grounds with a faithful Father. To the softer side of life.

xx,

kayla