Let Me Be

There are seasons in life where striving feels like sandpaper to the soul.
Where the noise of improvement and the push for progress only deepen the ache.
Sometimes, the most radical act of healing is to simply say:

Let me be.

Let me be tired without feeling weak.
Let me be still without needing to explain why I stopped.
Let me be confused without forcing clarity.
Let me be without having to become.

In a world that worships doing, productivity, and polished performance, being can feel like rebellion. But being is not laziness. It’s not passivity.
It is presence.
It is allowing.
It is breath meeting body without resistance.

Let me be messy.
Let me be moody.
Let me be human.

This is not giving up.
This is giving in—to the truth of the moment, to the rhythm of my own body, to the whisper of what’s real beneath all the roles I’ve been performing.

Let me be with what aches instead of fixing it.
Let me be with what’s unfinished instead of rushing it.
Let me be with myself the way I wish the world had been with me—
Kind. Patient. Unafraid.

There is a kind of healing that cannot be forced.
It blooms when it’s ready.
It softens when it feels safe.

And safety often begins with permission.
To not try.
To not perform.
To not change.

So if you hear the whisper rising in you today…
If some part of you is asking for space, silence, softness…
Let it be.
Let you be.

Because sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is stop running toward some better version of ourselves—and simply sit beside the one who’s already here.