Softness Wasn’t Safe. But I Wanted It Anyway.

In the attic, there were boxes of things that weren’t allowed. Stuffed animals. Dolls. Toy cars. Books with too much imagination.

We didn’t celebrate holidays or birthdays. Gifts were rare. And when they came, they usually disappeared — placed into the attic pile for the next garage sale. Toys without purpose were considered foolishness. And foolishness was dangerous.

But sometimes, when no one was looking, I’d open a box and press a stuffed animal to my chest. Just for a moment. Just to feel softness. I wasn’t trying to rebel. I just wanted to know what it felt like to hold something that held me back.

Even now, as a grown woman, I can see how that moment stayed with me.

There’s a cost to growing up in a world where softness isn’t safe. Where everything is structured. Where needs are secondary. Where joy is suspect. You learn to protect, perform, and stay sharp.

But deep down, I think softness is what I was craving all along. Not to be rescued. But to be received.

To be met with gentleness. To believe that I didn’t have to earn tenderness in order to deserve it.

If you’ve ever felt guilty for craving ease, for wanting softness, for longing for rest — I see you.

Softness isn’t weakness. It’s what heals the sharp edges. And you deserve it — not someday, but now.

-Jasmine