The Courage to Choose Me

I have loved with doors wide open, 
with no lock upon my heart, 
giving pieces of myself away 
and calling every fracture art. 

I have watched some people leave me 
when I begged their love to stay, 
and learned that sometimes losing someone 
is how you find your way. 

I have carried grief so quietly 
the world still saw my smile, 
while underneath, my heart was asking 
if I could rest awhile. 

There were nights I questioned everything, 
my beauty, worth, and name. 
I searched the mirror for the woman 
I had somehow learned to blame. 

But courage is not always thunder. 
Sometimes courage barely speaks. 
Sometimes it is looking at yourself 
with tears still on your cheeks 

and saying, 

I am still worthy. 

Not when I lose the weight. 
Not when somebody chooses me. 
Not when I finally become 
everything the world expects to see. 

Now. 

With every scar. 
With every flaw. 
With every dream that did not stay. 
With every person I once loved 
who chose to walk away. 

I am worthy when I am grieving. 
I am beautiful when I ache. 
I do not have to hide the pieces 
of a heart someone helped break. 

Because heartbreak did not end me. 
Grief did not erase my light. 
Every morning that I chose myself 
was another battle I survived. 

I am learning love is not a prize 
another person gets to give. 
It begins inside the promises 
I make myself to live. 

So, I will take myself to dinner. 
I will dance when no one is there. 
I will dress like I am beautiful 
because I already am. 

I will write until my truth becomes 
too powerful to hide. 
I will build the life I dreamed about 
with courage at my side. 

And if love finds me once again, 
I will not disappear inside it. 
I won’t shrink myself for someone’s arms 
just so I can fit beside them. 

They will meet a woman standing, 
not waiting to be saved. 
A woman who has walked through loss 
and still decided to be brave. 

My heart is not an empty house 
waiting for someone to move in. 

I live here. 

I filled these rooms with hope again. 
I opened every curtain. 
I swept the broken promises away 
and planted something certain. 

Me. 

So here is to every version of myself 
I thought I had to leave behind. 

The girl who wanted to be chosen. 
The woman learning she can choose. 

And the woman standing here today 
who finally understands: 

Loving myself after heartbreak 
was never my consolation prize. 

It was my rebellion. 

It was my healing. 

It was my courage. 

And perhaps the greatest love story 
I will ever write 
is the one where, after losing so much, 

I never lost myself.