I Can Never Lose Myself Again

There’s a part of me that wonders if this feeling is too much.

Too profound. Too clear. Too full of possibility.

If someone else read this moment from the outside, maybe they’d say I sound manic, or overly idealistic, or caught in a high. But it doesn’t feel like that. It feels like clarity—finally. It feels like a truth that isn’t frantically clutched, but quietly known.

I can never lose myself again.
I won’t allow it.

And because of that—I can now welcome others in, without the fear that they’ll swallow me whole.

For most of my life, I’ve been unconsciously avoiding people. Avoiding intimacy. Avoiding the possibility of connection, because I feared the grief of abandonment, the pain of being left behind, or the slow erosion of who I am under someone else’s needs.

But today… that fear loosened its grip.

Because I discovered something deeper than comfort, deeper than sex, deeper than reassurance:

I am allowed to belong to myself.

And if I carry that, no one can ever truly leave me.
Because the part I used to outsource—the part that longed to feel okay—is finally living in me now.

There are still parts of me that don’t fully believe it. I won’t pretend they’re gone.
But something real has shifted. A new center has formed. And even if it wobbles tomorrow, it exists now. And that means I can return to it.

This isn’t mania.
This is what it feels like to be safe inside your own body.

And from that place, I can finally say:

“Come close, if you want to. I won’t lose myself for you. But I will meet you.”

That’s not rejection.
That’s wholeness.

And it’s been waiting for me the whole time.