I still contemplate when and how to show up for someone who’s not asking for it. Is it my ego wanting to help? My old patterns of overcompensating? Or is it coming from my heart?

It’s not until I am back home, the doors closed, the house quiet, that the feelings begin to surface - if I allow them.

I am tired. And if I am honest, I don’t want to feel these feelings either. But I know better.

I know they will force themselves out in unhealthy ways if I don’t make room for them.
What we resist, persists.