Today, I didn’t do much in the physical world. No boxes ticked, no errands run. But inwardly, it might’ve been one of the most productive days I’ve ever lived.

I sat in stillness and reflected. Deeply. On what matters to me. On who I’ve become. On the kind of culture I long to be part of — one rooted in connection, authenticity, and mutual care. I wrote more blogs and reflections today than I can remember doing in one go. Not to impress anyone. Just because it felt true.

And somewhere in the midst of all that internal exploration, something cracked open.

I realized: I’ve spent most of my life believing that the needs I carry — for warmth, for safety, for someone to see me fully and choose to stay — were shameful. That wanting to be held, to be loved, to be delighted in, meant I was too much. Or not enough. Or both.

But today, I started to understand those needs as human.

Not needy. Not broken. Just unmet.

And more than that — I began to entertain the possibility that I could have those needs met. That I could experience a relationship where my sensitivity is a strength. Where my depth is welcome. Where I don’t have to perform, shrink, or overextend to be chosen.

That maybe I am capable of a healthy relationship. Maybe there are people out there who would genuinely want someone like me. Not in spite of how I’m wired — but because of it.

Maybe I’m not just tolerable. Maybe I’m lovable.

And maybe — just maybe — today was the day I finally let that in.