I love that it met you at the right moment. I think I was writing it because I needed it too, sometimes we’re just giving language to something we’re both quietly carrying. I’m really glad it found you when it did. 💛
I appreciate this more than you know. You’ve put into words what I’ve been experiencing as I’m growing and noticing what I need and want has changed. It is most definitely an uncomfortable place, but necessary to navigate.
Maletha… reading this felt like sitting back down across from you.
It really did something to me seeing you Saturday. Not just the quick catching up, but actually hearing you. Listening to you talk about last year, about what shifted and what it cost you. There was so much depth in it. I don’t think you even realize how grounded you sounded, even in the parts that were still tender.
This space you’re in makes sense. When what we need changes, it can feel disorienting. Like the room we have been living in is suddenly arranged differently. But an in between place is not a failure or a void. It is life reorganizing itself around who you are now.
Clearing out what no longer fits the woman you have grown into.
And we are absolutely allowed to mourn what was. Even if we chose to outgrow it. Even if it outgrew us. Missing something does not mean we want to go back. It just means it mattered.
I am really glad we got to reconnect the way we did. It felt easy in a way that reminded me why I have always appreciated you.
Thank you, Marie Mott, for putting words to something so many of us carry quietly.
That pause you described; that space between wanting connection and not knowing how to reach for it, feels deeply familiar. It isn’t that the love or care disappeared. It’s that life reshaped us, and sometimes we don’t know how to re-enter each other’s worlds without wondering if we still fit the same way.
Your words reminded me that connection doesn’t have to be grand or perfectly timed. Sometimes it’s just a small act of courage. A simple “I thought of you.” A moment of choosing softness over silence.
I’m learning too that being the strong one, the dependable one, the one who pours into others… doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to be poured into as well. We do. And the right people don’t see our reaching as a burden—they see it as trust.
This week, I’m taking your words as permission. Permission to notice the pause without judging it. Permission to reach when it feels right. And permission to trust that the connections meant for me will meet me in that space with the same openness.
Thank you for the reminder that softness is not weakness. It’s courage.
This is so beautifully said. I had to read it twice.
What you named about not knowing how to re enter each other’s worlds without wondering if we still fit… that feels so real. Sometimes it is not distance that scares us. It is the question of compatibility after growth. We change. They change. And there is that quiet moment of wondering, do we still recognize each other here?
I love that you called reaching a small act of courage. That is exactly what it is. Not a grand gesture. Not a dramatic confession. Just the willingness to let someone see that you thought of them. That you still care. That you are still here.
And what you said about being the strong one touched something tender. So many of us built identities around being dependable, being the steady one, being the one who pours.
There is strength in that. But there is also a quiet bravery in letting yourself be poured into. In letting someone respond to your reaching and not minimizing it. Trust is often hidden in those ordinary exchanges.
I am grateful you are taking this as permission. Not pressure. Not a mandate. Just permission to notice without judgment and reach without self criticism.
Softness really is courage. Not because it is fragile, but because it asks us to stay open when it would be easier to close.
Thank you for meeting the piece with this kind of thoughtfulness. It feels like we are building something steady here. 💛
Your words are valid and true. Even after you think about doi g a follow up and don't makes it harder to go back and try to even do it just move forward. But again something are best left alone. Blessings ❤️.
I understand that feeling more than I probably admit.
Sometimes the hardest part is not the reaching. It is the moment after we almost did. When we thought about following up, almost sent it, almost circled back, and then time passes. And suddenly it feels heavier. Like the window closed and reopening it would draw attention to the silence.
You are right though. Not everything needs to be revisited. Some pauses are just pauses. Some connections served their season and do not need a formal ending. There is wisdom in knowing when to move forward without forcing closure.
What I am learning is that hesitation does not mean we failed. It just means we were protecting something tender. And discernment is not avoidance. Sometimes it is peace.
Thank you for saying this so honestly. Blessings right back to you. 💛
It’s hard see what u believe and u know what takes to know what your rights how being middle is hard to not speak on truth and our people don’t recognize what was fought but we don’t live in believe what we don’t speak on I believe having real folks as u matter.
It’s the feeling like I need to explain who I have become to people that knew me 10+ years ago that sometimes exhausts me. It keeps me from reconnecting. I’m not that person anymore and I don’t have the capacity to catch them up. I’ve found some new friends that just accept me for who I am and it’s freeing. Still makes me sad about the old friends though.
There is something deeply tiring about feeling like you have to present a “before and after” slideshow of yourself just to be understood. Growth is already work. Having to narrate it, justify it, or translate it for people who only knew an earlier version of you can feel like reliving chapters you have already closed.
You are not wrong for not having the capacity to catch everyone up. Sometimes the most honest thing we can say, even silently, is I am not that version of me anymore.
And it is okay that new friendships feel freeing. There is a kind of grace in being met as you are now, without footnotes. That does not erase the love you had for old friends. It just acknowledges that proximity in the past does not automatically mean alignment in the present.
It also makes sense that there is sadness there. You can celebrate who you are becoming and still grieve who walked with you before. Wanting your people to honor where you have been, respect where you stand, and lovingly welcome who you are becoming is not asking too much. It is asking for reciprocity.
You deserve relationships where you do not have to shrink, over explain, or audition your growth. 💛
I needed this!!! Thanks Marie❣️
I love that it met you at the right moment. I think I was writing it because I needed it too, sometimes we’re just giving language to something we’re both quietly carrying. I’m really glad it found you when it did. 💛
I appreciate this more than you know. You’ve put into words what I’ve been experiencing as I’m growing and noticing what I need and want has changed. It is most definitely an uncomfortable place, but necessary to navigate.
Maletha… reading this felt like sitting back down across from you.
It really did something to me seeing you Saturday. Not just the quick catching up, but actually hearing you. Listening to you talk about last year, about what shifted and what it cost you. There was so much depth in it. I don’t think you even realize how grounded you sounded, even in the parts that were still tender.
This space you’re in makes sense. When what we need changes, it can feel disorienting. Like the room we have been living in is suddenly arranged differently. But an in between place is not a failure or a void. It is life reorganizing itself around who you are now.
Clearing out what no longer fits the woman you have grown into.
And we are absolutely allowed to mourn what was. Even if we chose to outgrow it. Even if it outgrew us. Missing something does not mean we want to go back. It just means it mattered.
I am really glad we got to reconnect the way we did. It felt easy in a way that reminded me why I have always appreciated you.
I hope to see you again soon. 💛
Thank you, Marie Mott, for putting words to something so many of us carry quietly.
That pause you described; that space between wanting connection and not knowing how to reach for it, feels deeply familiar. It isn’t that the love or care disappeared. It’s that life reshaped us, and sometimes we don’t know how to re-enter each other’s worlds without wondering if we still fit the same way.
Your words reminded me that connection doesn’t have to be grand or perfectly timed. Sometimes it’s just a small act of courage. A simple “I thought of you.” A moment of choosing softness over silence.
I’m learning too that being the strong one, the dependable one, the one who pours into others… doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to be poured into as well. We do. And the right people don’t see our reaching as a burden—they see it as trust.
This week, I’m taking your words as permission. Permission to notice the pause without judging it. Permission to reach when it feels right. And permission to trust that the connections meant for me will meet me in that space with the same openness.
Thank you for the reminder that softness is not weakness. It’s courage.
This is so beautifully said. I had to read it twice.
What you named about not knowing how to re enter each other’s worlds without wondering if we still fit… that feels so real. Sometimes it is not distance that scares us. It is the question of compatibility after growth. We change. They change. And there is that quiet moment of wondering, do we still recognize each other here?
I love that you called reaching a small act of courage. That is exactly what it is. Not a grand gesture. Not a dramatic confession. Just the willingness to let someone see that you thought of them. That you still care. That you are still here.
And what you said about being the strong one touched something tender. So many of us built identities around being dependable, being the steady one, being the one who pours.
There is strength in that. But there is also a quiet bravery in letting yourself be poured into. In letting someone respond to your reaching and not minimizing it. Trust is often hidden in those ordinary exchanges.
I am grateful you are taking this as permission. Not pressure. Not a mandate. Just permission to notice without judgment and reach without self criticism.
Softness really is courage. Not because it is fragile, but because it asks us to stay open when it would be easier to close.
Thank you for meeting the piece with this kind of thoughtfulness. It feels like we are building something steady here. 💛
Needed this…..
There is much power in being still, Sis. Love this read. 💛
Thank you sis 💛
Wow! Wow! Said everything I was feeling. Bravo!
Your words are valid and true. Even after you think about doi g a follow up and don't makes it harder to go back and try to even do it just move forward. But again something are best left alone. Blessings ❤️.
I understand that feeling more than I probably admit.
Sometimes the hardest part is not the reaching. It is the moment after we almost did. When we thought about following up, almost sent it, almost circled back, and then time passes. And suddenly it feels heavier. Like the window closed and reopening it would draw attention to the silence.
You are right though. Not everything needs to be revisited. Some pauses are just pauses. Some connections served their season and do not need a formal ending. There is wisdom in knowing when to move forward without forcing closure.
What I am learning is that hesitation does not mean we failed. It just means we were protecting something tender. And discernment is not avoidance. Sometimes it is peace.
Thank you for saying this so honestly. Blessings right back to you. 💛
It’s hard see what u believe and u know what takes to know what your rights how being middle is hard to not speak on truth and our people don’t recognize what was fought but we don’t live in believe what we don’t speak on I believe having real folks as u matter.
Heard. It is hard to stand in the middle and see clearly, especially when you know what was fought for and feel like others do not recognize it.
Not every silence is weakness though. Sometimes it is wisdom. Choosing when to speak and when to protect your peace takes strength too.
And having real people around you who understand that does matter. I’m grateful you said that. 💛
It’s the feeling like I need to explain who I have become to people that knew me 10+ years ago that sometimes exhausts me. It keeps me from reconnecting. I’m not that person anymore and I don’t have the capacity to catch them up. I’ve found some new friends that just accept me for who I am and it’s freeing. Still makes me sad about the old friends though.
This makes so much sense.
There is something deeply tiring about feeling like you have to present a “before and after” slideshow of yourself just to be understood. Growth is already work. Having to narrate it, justify it, or translate it for people who only knew an earlier version of you can feel like reliving chapters you have already closed.
You are not wrong for not having the capacity to catch everyone up. Sometimes the most honest thing we can say, even silently, is I am not that version of me anymore.
And it is okay that new friendships feel freeing. There is a kind of grace in being met as you are now, without footnotes. That does not erase the love you had for old friends. It just acknowledges that proximity in the past does not automatically mean alignment in the present.
It also makes sense that there is sadness there. You can celebrate who you are becoming and still grieve who walked with you before. Wanting your people to honor where you have been, respect where you stand, and lovingly welcome who you are becoming is not asking too much. It is asking for reciprocity.
You deserve relationships where you do not have to shrink, over explain, or audition your growth. 💛
I want my people to honor where I’ve been, respect where I stand, and lovingly welcome who I am becoming.