“We survived. You and I. And those who survive have a duty. Our duty is to do our best to keep on living. Even if our lives are not perfect.”

— Haruki Murakami

"L'oubli du soi est un chemin vers la joie."

Jacques de Bourbon Busset

And on the difficult days,
when you feel like you don't belong..
Remember you have been many things
to many different people
and that you will continue to be
as such, in the future, probably
more than you could ever realise.
Your presence is a gift, and no one
else can take your place.

You have shown kindness in ways
that will never be forgotten,
helping others out of dark places
in the midst of the most difficult times.
You underestimate how much
joy and light you bring to the lives
of everyone you meet.
You are a piece in the grand puzzle
And without you, the picture is incomplete

♥️ C.E. Coombes

"The storm is out there, and every one of us must eventually face the storm. When the storm comes, pray that it will shake you to your roots and break you wide open. Being broken open by the storm is your only hope. When you are broken open, you get to discover for the first time what is inside you. Some people never get to see what is inside them: what beauty, what strength, what truth, and love. They were never broken open by the storm. So, don't run from your pain .. run into your pain. Let life's storm shatter you."

- Bryant McGill

And in the next fifty years, you will ache and you will glow. You will fall in love with people who don't stay and still carry their names like pressed flowers in the folds of your memory. You will eat meals alone and meals with people who make you laugh so hard you forget the sting of silence. There will be mornings you can't get out of bed
and nights where you walk home humming under a sky so wide it forgives you. You'll cry in public and smile at strangers and sometimes it'll be the same thing. You'll hear a song that reminds you of someone you promised you'd never forget and you'll realize you already have, a little. You'll outgrow versions of yourself you once thought permanent and mourn them like old friends and still you will keep going. You'll see sunsets that make your chest tighten.
You'll be held when you least expect it. You'll feel the cold on your face and remember what it means to be alive.
And it won't always be gentle but it will be yours.

Sky at Night

May you awaken with purpose in your breath
and rest at night knowing you did enough.

May opportunity meet your effort,
patience walk beside ambition,
and challenges sharpen you
without ever hardening you.

May laughter arrive often and stay awhile.
May love, old and new, grow deeper, truer.

May you give freely without losing yourself,
and receive fully, without hesitation.

And when the road bends without warning,
may you trust the strength you’ve earned
and the wisdom you carry to guide you.

May this be a year of steady growth,
honest joy, and gentle courage,
a future that feels not only hopeful,
but open and welcoming too.

Mary Anne Byrne

art: Olya Haydamaka

Trust is not an emotion.
And this is why so many relationships silently collapse while everyone is still smiling.
We talk about “trust” like it is warmth.
Like it is closeness.
Like it is the glow you feel when love feels safe, sexy, connected, familiar.
That is not trust.
That is comfort.
And comfort can exist in relationships that are absolutely unsafe emotionally.
Trust is not built when everything is easy.
Trust is born in the moments that feel like emotional death.
Trust is created in the moments when fear, sadness, insecurity, grief, shame, and trembling vulnerability come into the room…
…and instead of being punished, they are welcomed.
Trust is not “I love you when you are fun and confident and regulated.”
Trust is:
“I love you enough to stay present when you are terrified, messy, insecure, trembling, and emotionally raw… and I will not make you pay for needing me.”
That is trust.

---

Most people do not lose trust because someone lies.
Most people lose trust because their emotional truth becomes unsafe.
Trust erodes when someone says:
“I’m scared,” and the response is:
“You’re too dramatic.”
Trust erodes when someone says:
“I feel insecure,” and the response is:
“Figure it out yourself. I’m tired of this.”
Trust erodes when someone cries and the other rolls their eyes.
Trust erodes when someone collapses emotionally…
and the person they love disappears, intellectualizes, gets defensive, gets irritated, gets superior, or turns cold.
Trust is not “Do I love you?”
Trust is:
“Does my nervous system feel safe with you when I am no longer performing strength?”

---

Here is the uncomfortable truth:
Most relationships you see that look “stable”
are not built on trust.
They are built on **emotional compliance.**
Silence dressed as maturity.
Avoidance dressed as peace.
Suppression dressed as “being easygoing.”
Fear dressed as harmony.
Many couples don’t have trust.
They have an unspoken contract that says:
“Do not be too sad.”
“Do not be too scared.”
“Do not bring emotional need.”
“Do not break down in front of me.”
“Do not require depth from me.”
“Keep your pain small so I don’t have to confront mine.”
And then they post smiling pictures.
And say they are “best friends.”
And celebrate anniversaries.
And look functional.
But the body knows.
Deep down, they are alone together.
Because if you cannot break safely in front of someone,
you cannot trust them.

---

Trust is not tested in laughter.
Trust is tested in threat.
Trust is when someone says:
“I feel like I am not enough.”
And instead of saying, “Stop being insecure,”
you say, “Come closer.”
Trust is when someone says:
“I’m scared you might leave.”
And instead of shaming them for being needy,
you regulate your body and anchor theirs.
Trust is when someone admits:
“I feel ashamed.”
And you hold that confession like glass rather than turning it into leverage later.
Trust is when your tears do not cost you connection.
Trust is when your sadness does not make you feel like a burden.
Trust is when your fear does not make someone roll their eyes.
Trust is when your vulnerability does not become ammunition in the next fight.

---

You don’t find trust in romance highlight reels.
You find it in the dark places.
In the argument where one person finally says,
“This is not anger. I’m actually scared.”
In the heartbreak moment where one says,
“I feel like I am disappearing inside my own pain,”
and the other sits on the floor beside them instead of retreating.
In the late-night confession that terrifies someone to speak aloud…
and the other listens without making the moment about themselves.

---

So if you really want to know if you have trust in your relationship,
don’t ask:
“Are we happy?”
“Do we get along?”
“Do we have chemistry?”
“Do we laugh?”
“Do we love each other?”
Ask your body:
“When I am afraid here, do I feel safe?”
“When I am sad, does this relationship make room for me?”
“Can I cry without feeling like a problem?”
“Can I tell my emotional truth without losing connection afterward?”
“Can I break… and still belong?”
If the answer is no,
you do not have trust.
You have emotional performance.

---

Trust is not pretty.
Trust is not cute.
Trust is not built in smiling photos.
Trust is built in the raw, trembling, holy moments where one person says:
“Here is the part of me that shakes, doubts, fears, aches, grieves, questions, and needs…”
And the other says:
“I will not punish this.
I will not shame this.
I am not leaving.”
Then something extraordinary happens.
The nervous system finally exhales.
The heart finally unclenches.
The body finally whispers:
“This is real.
This is safe.
This is love.”

Derk Hart

"Times are difficult globally; awakening is no longer a luxury or an ideal. It’s becoming critical. We don’t need to add more depression, more discouragement, or more anger to what’s already here. It’s becoming essential that we learn how to relate sanely with difficult times. The earth seems to be beseeching us to connect with joy and discover our innermost essence. This is the best way that we can benefit others."

- Pema Chodron

From her book When Things Fall Apart

Art: Miboso - Purified by the flame

i think the people who have been through the most sadness are the ones who always try their hardest to make others happy.
Because they know what it's like to feel empty, and they don't want anyone else to feel that way. They are the ones who crack jokes
even when their own heart is heavy, who check on others even when no one checks on them, who give love even when they rarely receive it back.
They carry so much pain inside but still choose to bring light to the people around them. They understand the tears that fall at night,
they understand what it feels like to be forgotten. and that is why they try so hard to make sure no one else feels the same.
Sometimes the kindest people are the ones who hurt the most, yet they still want to be the reason someone smiles,
not the reason someone feels broken.

Sky at Night

Ce qui est essentiel, c'est d'avoir, face à soi, une résistance, une résistance complice, telle que seul l'être aimé peut en offrir. Alors on a une chance de se rapprocher du secret qui fait tenir ensemble ce chaos d'impressions, de calculs, de fantasmes qu'on appelle une personne.
Le secret, c'est que l'unité tant recherchée existe à cause du regard de l'autre. Ton regard a créé mon unité. [..] On devient soi par l'autre.

Jacques de Bourbon Busset

Art: Jozef Wilkon - Leopanter

Rejection hurts more deeply than most of us realize.
Not because you’re dramatic.
Not because you’re fragile.
Not because you’re lacking emotional strength or stability.
It hurts because rejection touches something ancient in the human nervous system.
It touches belonging.
It touches safety.
It touches survival.
Rejection isn’t just a moment.
It isn’t just “a feeling.”
It’s a full-body experience.
It tightens the chest.
It shortens the breath.
It floods the body with adrenaline.
It wakes up grief that’s been asleep for years.
It makes your mind spin and your heart ache and your body brace for emotional impact.
Especially when the rejection comes from someone you love.
Because this isn’t just anyone rejecting you.
This is the person your nervous system has marked as home.
This is the person your body relaxes around (or desperately wants to).
This is the person you leaned toward with hope.
And when home feels like “no,” everything inside you revolts.
But this is where things get deeply misunderstood.
Most of the world tries to teach you to outrun rejection.
Detach.
Act unbothered.
Be proud.
Be strong.
Convince yourself you don’t need what you desperately need.
Pop psychology gives you walls disguised as wisdom: “It’s their problem.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think.”
“Don’t let them have power over you.”
Those ideas sound empowering.
But what they really teach you is to numb instead of heal.
To disconnect instead of understand.
To shut down instead of soften.
They teach you to be less human, not more whole.
Because rejection doesn’t hurt because you’re weak.
Rejection hurts because you’re wired for love.
And love is supposed to matter.
But anxious and avoidant partners don’t just “feel rejected.”
They experience rejection in totally different universes.
Let’s slow this down.
The anxious partner doesn’t just feel ignored.
They feel erased.
Their brain doesn’t say: “They’re busy.”
Their brain says: “I don’t matter. I’m alone again. I’ll disappear if I don’t fight for love.”
The body remembers every moment in life where closeness slipped away: Parents who weren’t emotionally available.
Moments they felt invisible.
Moments they were told they were “too much.”
Moments they begged for connection and didn’t get it.
So when rejection shows up, it doesn’t feel like “today.”
It feels like a lifetime storm waking back up.
So they don’t quietly sit with pain.
They escalate.
They repeat themselves.
They text again.
They explain harder.
They talk faster.
They plead.
They chase.
It’s not obsession. It’s not emotional immaturity.
It’s survival trying to stay alive.
Meanwhile…
The avoidant partner feels rejection too.
But theirs happens in silence.
They don’t erupt.
They implode.
To them, rejection rarely sounds like abandonment.
It sounds like failure.
“I’m disappointing them again.”
“I’m never enough.”
“No matter what I do, it isn’t right.”
“There must be something wrong with me.”
Their system learned a long time ago that emotions meant danger.
That being vulnerable meant being hurt, overwhelmed, shamed, or invaded.
So instead of leaning forward, their nervous system pulls back to protect them.
They don’t escalate.
They withdraw.
Not because they don’t care.
But because staying present with that much emotional heat feels unbearable.
So they minimize feelings to survive.
They shrink their needs to survive.
They go quiet to survive.
They disconnect to survive.
They aren’t unfeeling.
They’re flooded.
They’re overwhelmed.
They’re scared.
So now you have two people in pain:
One who fights harder not to disappear.
One who disappears to stop hurting.
One says: “If you loved me, you’d stay close and feel this with me.”
The other says: “If you loved me, you’d stop showing me how much I’m failing you.”
And rejection becomes war instead of healing.
Not because either of them is broken.
Not because one is “the problem.”
But because nobody ever taught them how to stay with pain long enough to heal it.
Nobody taught you that rejection needs tenderness, not distancing.
Nobody taught you that rejection needs regulation, not performance.
Nobody taught you that rejection needs two nervous systems breathing together, not two egos defending themselves.
Rejection doesn’t destroy relationships.
Unattended rejection does.
When you don’t tend to rejection: It becomes resentment.
It becomes hopelessness.
It becomes shutdown.
It becomes “we don’t talk anymore.”
It becomes “we stopped touching years ago.”
It becomes “I don’t even recognize us.”
When rejection is ignored, connection starves.
When rejection is softened, connection grows.
If you’re anxious, your work isn’t to silence need.
It’s to slow your reach so your nervous system doesn’t overwhelm the very closeness you’re fighting for.
If you’re avoidant, your work isn’t to disappear.
It’s to stay just a little longer than your instinct wants to run, so your nervous system learns you don’t die when emotions get close.
Rejection hurts.
It should.
It hurts because you care.
It hurts because you attach.
It hurts because love matters to you.
And that’s deeply human.
Not shameful.
Not weak.
Human.
--

When you’re ANXIOUS and feeling rejected, 25 things to say to yourself

1. This hurts more than I want it to, and I can feel that truth in my chest.
2. I hate how much I need them right now, and that’s real for me.
3. I feel terrified of disappearing again, and that fear is honest.
4. My body is panicking because closeness matters to me deeply.
5. I feel like I’m fighting for my life emotionally, and that’s not dramatic, it’s human.
6. I feel abandoned in this moment, whether or not they meant to abandon me.
7. I can feel the child part of me crying, and I won’t silence that part right now.
8. I feel desperate for reassurance, because I’ve known what it’s like to not get it.
9. Right now my need feels bigger than my dignity, and that’s painful to admit.
10. I hate waiting like this. Waiting feels like proof I don’t matter.
11. I feel like I’m begging for love in my nervous system even if I look calm on the outside.
12. It hurts that I care more right now than they seem to.
13. I’m scared that if I don’t fight for closeness, nobody ever will.
14. I feel like I could disappear from their world and they wouldn’t notice, and that terrifies me.
15. This loneliness feels loud. I can feel it vibrating through my whole body.
16. Part of me believes that if I’m not chosen constantly, I’m not chosen at all.
17. It hurts that I keep wanting someone who isn’t reaching back in this moment.
18. I feel ashamed that I care this much, and that shame hurts too.
19. I feel like I don’t know how to exist without connection, and that’s honestly scary.
20. I feel small right now. I feel like a second thought.
21. I want to be held, and instead I feel like I’m holding the whole relationship.
22. I feel like my heart is wide open and I’m standing alone with it exposed.
23. I want them to rescue me from this pain, and they aren’t, and that aches.
24. I feel like if I stop reaching, everything collapses, and that belief is painful.
25. This hurts because I love deeply, and loving deeply has always come with a cost for me.

---

When you’re AVOIDANT and feeling rejected, 25 things to say to yourself

1. This hurts more than I’m letting anyone see.
2. I feel like I’m already failing again, and my system hates how familiar that feels.
3. It hurts to believe I’m never quite enough for the people I love.
4. I feel criticized even when nobody is saying the words, and that hurts me quietly.
5. I’m scared to try harder because I don’t trust that I won’t disappoint again.
6. I feel like if I open up, I’ll drown in emotions I don’t know how to handle.
7. I hate feeling like the bad guy, and it hurts that I often do.
8. Part of me believes I’m safer alone than risking emotional humiliation.
9. I feel like love always asks more of me than I know how to give.
10. I’m tired of feeling like everything I do is the wrong thing.
11. I feel like my efforts never count, and that quietly breaks something in me.
12. I hate feeling needy, so instead I bury my needs, and that hurts too.
13. It hurts to feel misunderstood so often.
14. I feel like if people really saw me, they wouldn’t stay.
15. I feel like I’m one mistake away from losing everything, and that pressure is painful.
16. It hurts to feel like love is a test I keep getting graded on.
17. I feel overwhelmed by emotions I don’t have language for.
18. I feel like I’m always bracing for disappointment, so I numb instead.
19. It hurts that I want connection but don’t trust it to be safe.
20. I feel like I’m protecting myself from something that once hurt me deeply.
21. I feel ashamed that I can’t just “be better” at this.
22. It hurts to watch someone want more from me than I know how to give without falling apart.
23. I feel like I disappear to survive, and surviving comes at a cost.
24. I feel rejection even when nobody says “I reject you.” I feel it in expectations.
25. This hurts because I care more than I allow myself to admit, even to myself.

Derek Hart

🦋

Happiness
is lighter than a feather,
no one knows how to grab it.
Unhappiness
is heavier than earth,
no one knows how to leave it

—• Lao Tzu •—

I live within myself,
learning my own silence.
I have become my own friend,
yet my hardest enemy lives within me.
Every day, a battle rises inside me...
one part of me tries to break me,
to crush my spirit.
And every day, another self awakens,
quietly rebuilding what was destroyed.
I do not search for enemies outside,
nor do I depend on friends for strength,
because the courage I need
grows within me—
forged in battles no one ever sees.

Sufi

Art: Victo Ngai

K'wens je wijsheid toe, echte liefde en de kunst van het leven in al zijn facetten en minder angst in je zijn en denken.

Moedige, mooie walkster between the worlds.

How I wish I could tell you in person how beautiful you really are.

Art: Ingrid Tussel

The dance of anxious/avoidant attachment styles

Anxious: I feel guilty for wanting closeness.
Avoidant: I feel guilty for wanting distance.

Anxious: I blame myself when something feels off.
Avoidant: I blame myself for not being who people want me to be.

Anxious: I worry my needs push people away.
Avoidant: I worry my emotions make me weak.

Anxious: I feel bad that I care so much.
Avoidant: I feel bad that nothing feels safe to care about.

Anxious: I feel ashamed when I reach for reassurance.
Avoidant: I feel ashamed when someone sees my fear.

Anxious: I feel responsible for fixing every rupture.
Avoidant: I feel responsible for holding everything together by staying calm.

Anxious: I feel bad for taking up space.
Avoidant: I feel bad for taking time to open up.

Anxious: I fear I am not enough for the people I love.
Avoidant: I fear I am too much for anyone to actually love.

Anxious: I feel bad when I ask for more.
Avoidant: I feel bad when someone expects more from me.

Anxious: I feel wrong for wanting deep connection.
Avoidant: I feel wrong for not knowing how to give it.

Derek Hart

They always connect. They almost always choose each other.

Art: Victo Ngai

“If you're not in my life anymore, I don't think you're a bad person. I don't deem people good or bad. I deem them safe or unsafe. Aligned or misaligned. Because I'm not available to people I have to protect myself from.”

— Unknown

“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

― Albert Einstein

The longer I live, the more deeply I learn that love — whether we call it friendship or family or romance — is the work of mirroring and magnifying each other’s light. Gentle work. Steadfast work. Life-saving work in those moments when life and shame and sorrow occlude our own light from our view, but there is still a clear-eyed loving person to beam it back. In our best moments, we are that person for another.

~ James Baldwin

“When you find yourself drowning in self-rejection , remind yourself that you weren’t born feeling this way. That at some point in your journey, some person or experience sent you the message that there was something wrong with who you are, and you internalized those messages and took them on as your truth.

But self-rejection isn’t yours to carry, and those judgments aren’t about you. And in the same way that you learned to think badly of yourself, you can learn to think new, self-loving and accepting thoughts.

You can learn to challenge those beliefs, take away their power, and reclaim your own. It won’t be easy, and it won’t happen over night. But it is possible. And it starts when you decide that there has to be more to life than this pain you feel."

--- Danielle Keopke

"Some friends feel like home. Not because they fix you, but because they never ask you to be anthing other than yourself. You can be quiet around them. You can be tired, messy, honest. And somehow, even in your worst moments, they still choose you. That is not ordinary. That is something to hold close."

In the complicated landscape of human relationships, we often search for a place of rest, a space where we can truly exhale. True friendship isn't about finding someone who will mend your broken pieces; it's about discovering those rare souls who see your imperfections and still choose you. These friends feel like a sanctuary, a quiet haven where there's no pressure to perform or to put on a brave face.

With them, you can be messy, exhausted, and completely unfiltered. They don't need you to be anything other than what you are in that moment. It's in this profound acceptance that we find healing. It's the silent understanding that even when you're at your lowest, their presence remains unwavering. This isn't just a bond; it's a gift of unconditional belonging, a rare and precious connection that deserves to be cherished.

Loving Someone Who Is Neurodivergent

When you fall in love with a neurodivergent partner, you’re not just learning how to love. You’re learning a completely different language of connection.
And here’s what most people don’t realize. The emotional codes that make sense to you might not even exist in their nervous system. The signals that you think are obvious, tone, eye contact, small facial shifts, can be invisible to them. So love becomes something else entirely. Not a dance of matching energy, but a devotion to learning each other’s rhythm. A slow, brave education in difference.
Here are seven difficulties most people never see when loving someone who is neurodivergent.

1. Emotional resonance isn’t always mirrored.

When you cry, they might go quiet.
When you look for comfort, they might look away.
It’s not that they don’t care. It’s that the cues you rely on to feel seen don’t always register for them in real time.
You start to question if they feel what you feel. They do, but differently.

2. Empathy can take the long route.

They might not read the emotion in your voice,
but they will think about what you said for hours.
Days later, they might come back and say something that shows they understood more than you thought.
Their empathy is often delayed, but it’s real.

3. Sensory overload looks like disconnection.

When things get too loud, too chaotic, too intense, they pull away.
You might interpret this as rejection, but for them, it’s survival.
Their system floods faster. They retreat to regulate, not to abandon.

4. Logic often replaces comfort.

You say, “I’m hurt,” and they respond with a solution.
They’re trying to help, but you feel unseen.
They’re not invalidating you, they’re trying to fix the pain in the only way they know how, by solving it.

5. Your need for emotional attunement can become a source of tension.

You want them to notice what’s happening in your eyes,
to pick up on subtle shifts in your tone.
But neurodivergence doesn’t work that way.
They may need you to tell them directly what you need,
which feels unromantic, but it’s actually love in translation.

6. Their honesty can cut deep.

They might say things bluntly that you’d normally filter.
Not to hurt you, but because their communication system values clarity over comfort. It takes time to understand that their directness isn’t cruelty, it’s transparency.

7. You can start to feel emotionally alone.

You might begin to believe that you’re doing all the emotional labor.
That you’re the one feeling more, reaching more, trying more.
But often, they’re trying too, just in a quieter, less visible way.

Being with a neurodivergent partner doesn’t mean there’s no love.
It means love requires translation.
It means slowing down long enough to see that their form of care
might not look like yours, but it’s still care.
It means finding new ways to connect, mindfulness, curiosity, shared structure, radical patience.
It means learning to hold each other across different nervous systems. Because this kind of love isn’t built on instant resonance. It’s built on learning, learning to listen differently, to interpret gently, to keep believing that what you can’t always feel might still be there, waiting to be understood.

Derek Hart