There’s a moment.
One single definitive moment when it drops.
Like a tear hanging on the tip of a lash that becomes too heavy to hold, you finally realise; you’re better than this.
That drop of realisation comes after what feels like a thousand years of famine and dust in the wasteland that you once named your heart.
Trying to get to that drop, that’s a journey that’s as tiring as it is long, and the aches and pains you find along the way become the unseen scars that make up your broken body. And the first time that drop hits you, it’s as if the seams of a life have been pulled apart. If you listen, you can hear the tendons tear and the muscle fibres rip as what you know suddenly comes washing down your face and the salt on your skin seems to be the only thing you ever remembered.
Trying to recover from that first drop feels a lot like walking into oncoming traffic every single night. You wake with the dawn and slowly try to squash the bones of your soul back into a frame that doesn’t quite feel strong enough to hold.
But as you give yourself into the hands of humans again and again, and you unequivocally decide to love, like, feel and open yourself up to someone who has the power to snap and break, the drop comes earlier each time as you slowly begin to learn about worth, and just how much of it you have. Because there’s no shame or blame in giving parts of you away, the trick is just to learn when to take them back and hope that the moment the drop falls, is a moment that comes sooner rather than later.