My people are wounded

I love people. Meeting, sharing stories, learning your details and encouraging you to your dreams. Its part of what morivates me personally and professionally.

But my inner circle...Those souls are different. Its not that I dont like you, I do, but heres the thing...

My people are broken. Wounded. Battle-hardened. They have endured pain. Not “hurt my feelings“ pain. I mean deep irreparable pain. Held-my-fathers-hand-while-he-took-his-last-labored-cancer-laiden-breath pain. Became mother to my niece and newborn nephew when my sister was taken way too young, type of pain. Raped by a college boyfriend. Beaten bloody by siblings regularly. Lost ten pregnancies in a row. Fought their way back from severe postpartum. These people. That level of pain.

I will love you, dream with you, enjoy time with you. But the inner circle is a sacred place reserved for those souls who understand random breaking points. The days the tears flow without permission, against our will. We carry the unspoken bond of sanctuary. We understand and honor the pieces and jagged edges.