What does it look like to be careful with our bodies? To watch what we say and how we say it. To take into account that it feels the things we throw at it. To recognize that it remembers impact.
I forget that words carry heft and weight when wielded at the body. They don’t go through us. They drive into us, leaving marks.
It is often too big an ask to rotate a relationship. To turn on our heels in shock and go to work undoing what has been done and said.
Sometimes in shift we have to approach cautiously from the side by way of another route. For me, that is almost always love, a relationship that in my head makes more sense to be rooted in a kinder soil than the one I’ve planted my relationship with myself.
What would it look like to have a partner who is careful with my heart? Who asks only for what he can give. Who treads softly, but certainly forward. Who doesn’t wield intimacy, but holds it. This I understand. This makes sense.
What if I were careful like that with myself? Less irresponsible. Less rash. What if I gave myself the same credit I do in love?