Dearest former loves of my life,

I am writing to tell you that it isn’t your fault.  How could you have known how much fire you were getting yourself into?  How could you have known the depths that I hold?  You didn’t know you’d get lost in there, in all of that divine wisdom and power.  I imagine it must be terrifying to realize that the woman (and that word doesn’t hold half of what we really are) with which you fell in love, could hold so much, could be so much, could attract and radiate and expand, SO MUCH.  In a world where the masculine is usually synonymous with power and control, you must have felt so small in comparison, so helpless upon witnessing my earthly being containing multitudes beyond it.  How could that much divinity and beauty reside in such a small body?  “How does she keep all those stars in there?”-you must have wondered.  You must have felt like you couldn’t offer anything.

To be clear, I never needed you.  I wanted you.  I wanted a divine and courageous partner, to see me and hold me, and lift me up to the light that not only exudes from me, but needs me to step into it, over and over again.  I wanted you to hear my name and melt, because that’s how I felt when I heard yours.  I wanted someone who was not afraid to say they were afraid.  Don’t you get it?  I didn’t care that you were scared of the power that I held, that I continue to hold.  The only thing I needed from you was to stand in that fear and dive in with me.

But you couldn’t.  And it’s not your fault.  And it’s not the alcohol, or the toxic conditioning from your father, or your parents’ divorce, or any other reason that separates you from your ability to heal and truly love with humility, compassion and honesty.  It’s the simple fact that you are scared that by stepping into my own power, that I will somehow diminish yours.  My sweet loves, it doesn’t work that way.

So when I am crying alone, because you have again told me that I am too much, that I require too much, and that you can’t give me what I need, I’ll listen.  When you tell me that I give too much, and that I love so much, and that I am so sweet, too sweet, I’ll listen.  I won’t waste that on you anymore.  I won’t waste this gift I have been given; the gift of loving so fully that I see the light in you when you cannot see it in yourself.  I consciously search out your light and hold it up to you in the darkness, and if that is too much for you, then so be it.  I will wait.  I will light my own way.  I will find my own way home, and one day there will be a person waiting there, holding up the light for me.

I wish you every good thing.  I love you for the mirror you held up to me. Take care and be kind to the next woman and hold her in the light. She will undoubtedly be the one.



P.S. I wrote the women a poem, here- take it.

he knows not
what he misses
every curve of
a woman
will remind him
of your perfect body
the one he held
not tightly enough
the body that held
so infinite
he wouldn’t know how to
bow at it
to it
for it.

you are worlds
than he can hold

It’s not his fault
you are stars
and fire
too bright
It’s not his fault
that you are a gem
in which he saw his reflection
It’s not your fault
that he was not
the one to hold the light

You kindle your own
fire now

without pause
or hesitation
you are yours
to love again


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