I’m sorry for all the times I made you feel like you weren’t enough. You were. I simply lacked the eyes to see it — and the heart to feel it.
I’m sorry for all the times I made you feel like you were too much. You weren’t. You were utterly perfect and impeccable in your expression of truth. It was I who lacked the steadiness to hold it.
I’m sorry for making you feel unheard and unseen. For fearing the torrential winds of your emotions and boarding the windows to my own heart and soul.
I’m sorry for the times I bent your truth to better suit mine. For shaming and shoehorning your intuition into a lifeless structure of rationality and logic.
Likewise, I’m sorry for convincing you to dishonour and displace your heart’s wildest dreams. For making them secondary to convenience and practicality.
I’m sorry for the times I made you feel unsafe in your wildness. For trying to tame it instead of praise it. For starving it instead of feeding it with the awe and reverence it so deserved. Forgive me, for I was not yet in my power to meet it with unwavering love and courage.
Likewise, I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to hold space for all your states: That I was tormented by the rushing waves of emotion. Shaky hands and trembling feet amidst a swelling tempest.
I’m sorry for the times I left you alone on life’s dancefloor. Choosing to contract into self-exile instead of expanding into your fullness.
For resisting — not relishing — in your exquisite dynamism.
I’m sorry for underestimating your capacity and willingness to hold my truth — and for using that as an excuse to conceal it — when in fact it was the cold numbness of my own tongue, anesthetized by guilt and shame.
I’m sorry for blaming you. For failing to take full ownership over my own success or failure.
For creating unattainable, ever-shifting goalposts of acceptance and expectation.
For my entitlements.
To your moods, your states, your body, your love…
I’m sorry that I couldn’t fully receive your love, affection and reverence. Understand that it was my own unworthiness that got in the way.
I’m sorry that I was often too resentful and suppressed to offer you my own.
I’m sorry for weaponizing my love. For withdrawing my affection as a knee-jerk reaction to my own hurts. For reducing something so rich and pure into a depreciating currency which afforded us both nothing but suffering and heartache.
I’m sorry for placing conditions on my love for you. For demanding an artificial, sanitized “harmony”. For suppressing and stunting the growth we could’ve supported in one another. For refusing the messiness that that growth demanded.
I’m sorry for denying us what could’ve been.
For denying you the crown you deserved.
For dismissing the Queen you are.
But beyond my apologies…
I thank you for your strength and courage to show up as you are.
I honour you for your wildness, your radiance, and your exquisite wholeness.
I love you wholly. As you are. As you’ve been. As you’ll become.