Today I choose to let you be you

Today I choose to let you be you—all of you, even the parts I don't understand and, yes, even the parts that hurt me or you.

I choose to witness, listen, without thought, without an answer to the questions you don't ask or to the armored words you send my way.

I choose to meet you, as if for the very first time, and realize I have no business admiring, demeaning, understanding, condoning or fearing your behaviors. They're not mine. They're yours to keep or change.

I see you're another human being living out a story of your own. I don't have to take part in it if we're not cast to love each other. I can just walk away—or stand still if there's no way I can go now.

I choose to reflect on how hurtful it must me for you to hurt me, and how scared of my ways you must be to act this way.

I choose to connect with my heart, with my breath, and witness how scared I am of your ways… and how hurtful it would be for me to hurt you in return.

I choose to disengage, to welcome, to receive, to hope.

I choose to ground in my connection to my Self, as my only necessary source of protection.

I soothe my body, I hug my mind. I give myself what you don't seem to be able to offer now. I don't make it my mission to save you, to help you, to rescue, fix, solve or shapeshift into a role you would accept. I anchor in me, in love, and I remember that we're two human beings, trying to get to the end of this day, feeling seen, heard and acknowledged.

So I see the light in your eyes beneath the protection, I hear your heart beating against what I register as agression… and I acknowledge your humanity, that part of you that is in me too—and that we feel challenged to show each other now.

Today I choose to let you be you—especially the parts I don't understand and those that hurt me or you. I witness all of you, free, whole, in charge of your choices and ways. I ground into me and watch what happens next.