Three years ago, I published the very first piece for HeartBalm Healing. It was called Returning to Love. It came from the rawest part of me – a beginning shaped by both grief and deep hope – all tangled together. It wasn’t just a piece of writing – it was a reaching out. A whisper into the darkness, both for me and for anyone else who needed it. A voice saying gently and firmly:
Love is still here.
Even when we are lost.
Even when the path before us vanishes or feels uncertain.
Even if it hurts to hope.
And now – three years later – here we are. And I feel something deeper rising in me. Something quieter maybe, but steadier. Because what started as a way to remember love has become something more – it’s become the practice of staying with it.
Even when it’s hard.
Even when it’s isolating, we’re locked down, and things are silent.
Even through the unraveling, the unlearning, the becoming, and the rebuilding.
Because love isn’t just something we return to – it’s something we live inside of. It becomes a home. It becomes the thread that holds everything together… even the broken parts.
So today, I want to offer this as a kind of part two. A continuation of that first message. A balm, again – but deeper this time. A hand on your shoulder. A quiet, "Hey… you are still seen and held.”
Staying With Love: Three Years of HeartBalm
A continuation of Returning to Love
There comes a moment… after a crisis, after a fight, after the long crawl back to yourself, where the question kind of just… shows up: “How do I stay with love?”
Not just touch it for a moment or remember it when things fall apart. But actually, stay with it. Even here, and even now. Even when I’m not sure I deserve it.
It’s one thing to find love again after the storm, and to feel it wrap around you in the quiet after. But staying? Staying with that knowing – when the world is cruel and loud again, when your heart is tired, when you’re afraid to hope again – that’s a whole different thing. That’s the deeper work.
Because most of us learned how to run when things got tough and abandon ourselves until things calmed down. We were taught to mistrust love. To brace when things got quiet. To perform. To please. To believe that love would leave the moment we showed our truth.
So we left first, or we shut down and closed off our hearts. Or we tried to be good enough to keep love from disappearing – conforming in ways that left us tied in knots.
What if this time, you stay?
Even when your nervous system says “Run,” or when the old stories and ghosts come knocking, or when fear starts whispering again.
You stay with yourself.
You stay with your breath.
You stay soft.
You stay awake.
You stay open to the love that never left.
Because love – real love – doesn’t flinch when you fall apart. It doesn’t vanish when you mess up. It doesn’t keep a ledger or ask for your best behavior.
It’s still here.
Not just after the pain, but in it. Like a flame that never went out or a star in the night sky that’s kept shining just for you.
And when you stay… when you really let yourself stay with love, even when it’s hard – you start to build something. Not a perfect life or a polished version of yourself, but a home inside you. A sanctuary.
Not a place you run to when you’re broken – but a place you live in.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s what healing really is. Not getting it right or figuring it all out. But staying. With love. Just as you are.
This is what I’ve learned, and what I’m still learning. And this is the gift I wanted to give you today – on HeartBalm’s third birthday.
A reminder that this work, this path, this life… it’s not about arriving. It’s about staying with love.
Again. And again. And again.
And I’m so glad we’re still here, together. Still choosing love. Still walking each other home.
Be blessed, dear one. Go feel adored. I love you.
If this speaks to your bones, or if you know someone walking the same road, pass it on. This is how we remind each other we’re not alone.
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