Intimacy. Into Me I See.

When The Silence Feels Sharp

She becomes open to the fullness of life.

And in doing so, she also learns how to hold grief.

The absence of romance doesn’t mean the absence of loss.

There are days when the bed feels too big.

When the silence feels sharp.

When the memories creep in and leave tears behind.

But even then, she has built a new relationship with herself strong enough to hold those emotions.

She doesn’t run from them.

She sits with them.

Breathes with them.

Offers them kindness.

And in that process, she finds healing.

Not because someone else offers her comfort.

But because she has learned to offer it to herself.

Her emotional resilience becomes visible in how she navigates life’s uncertainties.

In how she returns to her breath when anxious thoughts and emails arrive.

In how she forgives herself for not always having the answers.

In how she holds joy and sorrow with the same open hands.

This is not detachment.

It is mature intimacy.

The kind that doesn’t cling, but embraces.