I used to think brave love meant getting it right. Saying the perfect thing. Healing fast. Not needing too much. Not being too much. But what if brave love is actually the opposite? What if it looks like stammering through the truth with mascara running and your nervous system fried—but still showing up? That’s where we are today. Not polished. Not perfect. But present.
This is High-Functioning Hot Mess™, where we practice falling apart without abandoning ourselves.
