What if it was never meant to be earned?

A truth bomb from a faraway friend who saw me better than I see myself.

Earlier, I was chatting with a dear friend - one of those long-distance, heart opening friends who lives way too far away but somehow always feels just a heartbeat away.

We were daydreaming about taking a vacation together. You know, the kind where you're already picturing sunsets by the water, ocean air, and the kind of laughter and soul filling conversations that heals things you didn't even know were broken.

I said to her “I want to. SO badly I want to. But I have to wait till things feel a bit more comfortable financially.”

And without missing a beat, she said, “What if money wasn’t the issue? What if time was the only thing you had to figure out?”

I laughed nervously. You know the kind. A soft deflection, dressed up as humility.

Then she told me her plan, it was the perfect work around, really. A kind and very generous offer.

Boom. Cue internal chaos.

My nervous system lit up like a Christmas tree with every alarm bell labeled “UNDESERVING.”  independence narratives, core beliefs that ought to be explored in therapy.   all of it rose to the surface like bubbles in hot oil.

I didn’t say no. But I also didn’t say yes. What I said was something like: “I can’t let you do that.”

And she -  grounded, gracious, unbothered - simply said to me:

“You really need to work on receiving.”

Oof. I mean…..that really landed.

Landed right between the ribs.

Isn't it wild how easy it is to give? How we pour out our time, energy, love, money  and feel amazing doing it?

But the moment someone tries to pour into us, our hands clench, palms sweaty. Our shoulders stiffen. Our hearts pound, internal voice shouting, not allowed. This is resistance.

Why is it so much easier to feel worthy when we’re depleted?

Why do we resist the very love we so freely offer others?

That evening, sitting in the quiet echos of that conversation, I felt this whisper bubble from the deepest corners of my soul. You know, that quiet voice steeped in knowing that’s so easy to ignore: Maybe receiving is the real work.

Maybe it’s not weakness.

Maybe it’s not selfish.

Maybe it’s holy.

Maybe receiving is a muscle I never learned to use because I was too busy flexing self-reliance.

But what if true strength isn’t about doing it all alone?

What if it's letting someone see your empty hands and love you anyway?

Now the twist I didn’t see coming:

I’ve been out here, hands up to the sky, asking for more ease.

More freedom.

More joy.

More connection.

More adventure.

But the moment a little piece of that desire tried to come to me, wrapped in the love of a dear friend, I flinched. I tried to close the door.

So maybe this is the lesson the Universe keeps trying to hand me with its eternal wisdom and patience.

Allowing isn't passive. It’s a choice. A practice. A muscle..

It’s saying yes when what you asked for finally shows up.  Yes, even if it’s wrapped in discomfort, even if it doesn’t look the way you expected it to.

Because this work doesn’t just require clarity. It requires capacity.

The capacity to receive.

So I’m working on it.

On softening.

On opening.

On letting in what I asked for.

Because maybe healing isn’t just about letting go.

Maybe it’s about letting in.

<3