Have you ever longed to be deeply seen, only to find yourself met with silence or misunderstanding?
There’s a quiet truth I’ve come to know—one that didn’t arrive all at once, but gently, over time: People can only recognise you to the extent that they’ve come to know themselves. It’s not an easy truth. I used to resist it. Maybe you have, too. I’ve felt the ache of wanting someone to understand me, to see into my depths. I’ve reached toward others, hoping to draw them into greater intimacy and presence—not out of pressure, but out of longing. And when they couldn’t meet me there, I questioned myself. Why don’t they get it?
But slowly, life began to soften me.
With time, with grace, and yes—with heartbreak—I began to see things differently. I realised it’s not my work to push another beyond where they are. It’s my calling to stay true to who I am: to be real, to be kind, and to meet others with love. So now I ask you to consider: Where might you be holding the weight of needing to be understood? There’s a quiet freedom in letting go—the kind that comes when you no longer need to translate the language of your soul to fit someone else’s vocabulary. When you stop trying to be palatable and simply become present.
I’ve learned that my deepest gift is just that: presence.
Unmasked. Unpolished. Whole. And when I meet others from that place, without needing to be mirrored, something shifts.
I begin to love them as they are.
I begin to honour their pace.
And I begin to trust the wisdom of timing—not mine, but life’s.
Not everyone will meet us in that sacred middle space.
Some will. Some won’t.
And both are okay.
What matters is that we keep showing up—with enthusiasm, with truth, and with the kind of peace that doesn’t hinge on being understood. Because wholeness isn’t given by others. It’s remembered within. And maybe that’s where you begin again, too. Right here. Just as you are.
Heart to Heart, Dear One




