There's No Shame in Learning a Lesson Twice

I thought I was done with this pattern.
I thought that by putting space between me and my mother, I’d stop being drawn to people who can’t fully meet me.

But today reminded me that healing doesn’t happen in a straight line.

Because I did something I’ve done before:
I hung around too long.
I followed a quiet pull toward someone who doesn’t have the emotional space I was hoping for.
And I tried, in small ways, to be seen. To be chosen.
It wasn’t dramatic. But it was familiar.

Afterwards, I felt embarrassed.
Ashamed, even.
Like a lost dog hanging around for scraps of connection — hoping a look, a word, anything, might land.
It’s not how I want to show up.
It’s not how I want to be seen by the people I respect — the few I’ve kept close.

And that hurts.
Because I have done so much work.
I have grown.
And still, the pull returned. And I followed it. And now I’m here, sitting in the same old feeling.

But I’m seeing it through different eyes.

There’s no shame in learning a lesson again.
Especially when I’m tired.
Especially when I’ve been alone a lot.
Especially when connection still feels like something I have to earn.

I didn’t do anything unforgivable. I just acted from a place that’s still healing.
And the truth is, people who really see me won’t lose respect for me over a moment like this.
And if they do?
Maybe they were never safe to begin with.

Still, I feel sad.
Sad that I wasn’t more anchored.
Sad that I hoped again.
Sad that I’m still a little wounded, still a little young inside, still looking for something that didn’t arrive.

But I’m here.
And I’m not running from the feeling this time.

That’s how it changes.

Not by pretending it didn’t happen.
But by staying with it. Gently.
By saying:

“Yes, that was hard. Yes, you felt exposed. And yes, you’re still worthy.”

I’m learning.
Even when it doesn’t look graceful.
Even when it stings.

I’m learning.