Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is stop asking something to be different than it is.
I’ve been thinking a lot about acceptance lately.
For years, I think I misunderstood what acceptance actually meant.
I thought accepting something meant I was okay with it.
That I approved of it.
That I wanted it.
Or that accepting a situation somehow meant I had decided to stay there.
But I’ve learned that acceptance doesn’t necessarily mean any of those things.
Sometimes acceptance simply means:
This is what is.
This is who this person is.
This is what happened.
This is what my body can do today.
This is how I feel.
This relationship has changed.
This chapter is over.
This isn’t what I hoped it would be.
And I can stop fighting with reality long enough to decide what I want to do with what is actually here.
There is something incredibly freeing about that.
Because resistance takes a lot of energy.
Trying to make someone understand something they’re not ready to understand.
Trying to make a relationship become something it isn’t.
Trying to force our bodies to function differently.
Trying to convince ourselves we shouldn’t feel what we feel.
Trying to hold onto something because we aren’t ready for it to change.
Sometimes the greatest struggle isn’t even the thing itself.
It’s the ongoing argument we’re having with the fact that the thing is what it is.
And this is where I’ve started to see acceptance as an act of love.
Especially toward myself.
Acceptance says:
I don’t need you to be different before I can meet you with compassion.
I can accept the version of myself who didn’t know then what I know now.
I can accept the parts of myself that are still learning.
I can accept that my capacity changes from day to day.
I can accept my emotions without immediately trying to talk myself out of them.
I can even accept that sometimes I am not ready to accept something yet.
And I can extend that acceptance outward too.
I can allow another person to be who they are without making it my responsibility to change them.
That doesn’t mean I have to agree with them.
It doesn’t mean their behaviour can’t hurt me.
It doesn’t mean I don’t get to have boundaries.
And it certainly doesn’t mean I have to continue giving someone access to me.
In fact, sometimes acceptance is exactly what allows us to set a boundary.
Because once I stop relating to who I hope someone will become and accept who they are showing me they are, I can make choices based on reality.
That’s love too.
Love doesn’t always mean holding on.
Sometimes love says:
I see you.
I see me.
I see this clearly.
And I am going to stop asking any of us to be something we’re not.
There is peace in that.
Not necessarily happiness.
Not necessarily agreement.
Not even necessarily forgiveness.
Just the quiet release that comes when we stop fighting against what already exists.
Maybe acceptance isn’t giving up.
Maybe it’s finally putting down the fight with reality.
And from there, we get to choose what comes next.
A gentle invitation to reflect
Is there something in your life that you are currently asking to be different than it is?
A person?
A relationship?
Your body?
Your past?
Your current circumstances?
Even yourself?
What would it mean to say:
This is what is true right now.
Not I like it.
Not I want it.
Not I’m going to stay here.
Just:
I accept that this is where things are.
And then ask yourself:
Knowing what is true, what is the most loving choice I can make from here?
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