It’s hard, to let yourself be loved.

We had a baby shower last weekend and our entire community came out to celebrate and support us. At one point I looked around the room and felt completely overwhelmed. “I really don’t deserve all this love” I thought.

I am totally comfortable with working and pushing and trying and giving- on my terms.


It’s the receiving part I find most difficult.

That night we were sitting around our bounty. I still had my flower crown on and I was perched on top of mounds of tissue paper and cards and gifts and I felt really uneasy about the whole thing.

“Gosh this is hard” I kept saying “to let all this kindness in”.

I mean it. It’s uncomfortable- that much beauty being directed at you when you have been scrambling for it for so long. It’s like, getting stuffed with sunshine after living in the North Pole for years.

gentle streamIt hurts so good.

And the struggle is not to be mocked.

fear good

Opening up is terrifying work.


It’s easy to psychoanalyse why it’s hard for someone to receive.

  • It makes you vulnerable.
  • It’s a reminder that you could be hurt.
  • It means that you are quite possibly very worthy.
  • It points to the option that there is something bigger than you running the show.


Again, I say- I am comfortable with the grind. I ‘m not so familiar with the ease.

But the universe keeps trying to push it on me.

IMG_0953baby fish

Over the years my partner has brought me necklaces, earrings, hats, coats, tables, photos, letters, scarves, crystals, pins, cups, coffee, chocolate, licorice, t-shirts with swear words on them, paintings, mittens and treasures that sparkle and shine.  He showers me in gifts. And this is what I have always asked for, to be showered with love. I wanted it, secretly, and then not so secretly and finally it came.

This is a selection from my favourite Hafiz poem:

…Your love

Should never be offered to the mouth of a


 Only to someone

Who has the valor and daring

To cut pieces of their soul off with a knife

 Then weave them into a blanket

To protect you…

I put this poem under my pillow for a few years, to remind myself what I was holding out for.

Now I say, be careful what you wish for because holy shit, allowing all this love in is the wildest thing I have ever had to do.

I would not trade it.

I am thankful for it.

I’m squirming around in the water, getting used to the softness of the ripples, letting the bubbles rise to the top.