Babygirl, You Are Worth More Than You Know

Babygirl, I hope you know that this is not on you.

Yes, you aren’t perfect. And yes, you may have a few things to figure out, too. But your relationship ended because he didn’t know what to do with you. That is to say, he didn’t know how to handle someone as beautiful and gracious and committed as you. That is his shortcoming, not yours.

I hope you know that this man you fell in love with is, in fact, not a man. Real men don’t end relationships in the way that he did. Real men have balls. He clearly does not.

I hope you know that what goes around, comes around. While our circle of friends would gladly send him ornate, angst-filled messages daily or hire some conmen to beat the shit out of him (just kidding — or not), he just doesn’t deserve our time or energy. Sooner or later, what he did to you will bite him in the ass. And I don’t mean this in the karma kind of way, but in an it-can’t-be-helped way. People who never grasp and grow out of their internal issues will always be held down by their demons.

I hope you know that you have such a huge heart — so huge that you may very well be walking around encapsulated by it, instead of your body housing the organ. That’s how we’ve always seen you. That’s how the orphaned kids and elderly see you every time you visit them on your birthday. That’s how your beloved patients see you at the hospital. That’s how your family sees you. We all see you — and we can’t help but think, “What a big, beautiful heart we have here!”

I hope you know that he is completely unqualified to understand your value. I have known you for years. You are a loving, supportive daughter and sister. You are a thoughtful friend and a true listener. You are so generous — more than most people, more than I’ll ever be. You’re a talented dancer and a freaking great baker and a hardworking, compassionate physical therapist. I know you’ve had to deal with a lot of shit growing up. Yet here you are, not anywhere close to being a shit person. Of all the things life has thrown at you, you said, “I can be better than this.”

This time is no different.

I hope you believe, as I’ve come to believe, that people come into our lives for specific reasons. His purpose was not to hurt you. Neither was it to be the one for you. I can’t say exactly why the universe brought him into your life or what it is you must take away from this. I think that is for you to claim and yours alone. But I do know this much: this, babygirl, is just another chapter that fortifies how strong you are.

I hope you feel that you are loved. So loved. Loved by those who know what love means. Love doesn’t chip away at your sense of self. Love communicates and listens and shows respect and nourishes and finds the courage to admit it when letting go is the only way to go. Love doesn’t always come easy, but neither is it inexhaustibly hard. And in those times that love may break you, it will not desert you.

I hope you know that when I say you deserve better, I simply mean that you deserve real love. And while the right man has yet to come, know that I’ll always be here to remind you that you can get it. That you can draw it from within.

Babygirl, you are now free, free to pay attention to that outsized heart of yours and revel in all the ways that it manifests itself. Now, you can pour it into things that are worthy of your love — Your patients. Your family. Your banana bread and smores cookies. Your fun and weird and sexy bunch of high school friends. And everything else that builds your soul and ignites your light and amplifies the wonderful human being that you are.

I hope you can trust that the right man will come at the right time. And when that time comes, you will both be ready and there will be butterflies and it won’t have to be so damn hard. Because this man would have already found himself. And in finding you, he will only reassure what you know deep inside and what we’ve all known to be true: That you are enough.

Our friends will approve of him. We will get together, drink, eat, endlessly tease each other about which of us should just go ahead and get knocked up so we can finally live our auntie dreams. And maybe for a second, we’ll remember that pathetic ex of yours. We’ll laugh. We’ll mock him because it’s fun to be petty grown-ups. And we’ll toast to the fact that you dodged a bullet.

I know it hurts now. Though you say you don’t know what to do, I think you do. Listen to your heart. Whole layers of it may tell you you still want him, but pay attention to that faint, but undeniable voice that’s craving for something else: healing.

I hope you hold on to that tiny voice. Let it ring inside you. Let it stir you.

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This post was previously published on Hello, Love.

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