This Version of Me Is Learning to Stay.

I used to leave myself behind in moments of discomfort. I’d abandon my body, my boundaries, my breath, just to keep the peace.

But this version of me is learning to stay.

She stays when the silence feels heavy. She stays when the old stories rise up, begging to be rewritten. She stays even when staying means sitting with the ache instead of fixing it.

Staying doesn’t mean stagnation. It means choosing not to flee from the parts of me that are still tender. It means honoring the version of me that doesn’t need to be healed to be held.

This version of me is learning to stay. And in staying, she’s learning to trust herself again.