Let Yourself Be Held
Permission to receive
Let yourself Be held; You are safe, here You are loved
These words came to me while I was lying in shavasana after one sweaty yoga class three and a half years ago. The lights were turned down low, my fellow practitioners breathing around me. It was nearing the end of a difficult summer after a difficult season of letting go; I was learning to open my heart after everything fell apart and it hurt, but I didn’t know what to do with all those feelings. Didn’t know how to admit how much pain I was in. It all felt like too much.
At the time, I was just doing my best to hold it all together. I think I was exhausted. I didn’t yet have the tools to process what I’d been through so I did my best with what I had. That’s all we ever do, isn’t it? It’s all we ever can do: our best. Even when it doesn’t feel like enough, when we wish we knew more or could do more or feel embarrassed about the decisions we’ve made — we’re still just doing the best we can in each moment.
How much of our lives have we spent feeling like we’re not enough?
As I laid there, breathing quietly, I imagined a web connecting my heart to everyone else in the room. There is a certain sense of quiet connectedness you feel after you sweat beside someone — I haven’t yet found something that can replace it. I’m not sure I’d want to.
When I imagined these threads binding us to one another, I felt this deep sense of gratitude, a yearning to give back. Yearning to give, give, give. Sometimes I’ve felt like I love too much, love too deeply for any one person to hold. It’s painful to keep it in when all you want to do is give it away, but it’s even more painful when your love is rejected, when you give it to people who don’t honour your energy or take advantage of it instead.
I’d learned the hard way that some people aren’t ready to receive this pure kind of love; they are unable to hold it. It has very little to do with you and more to do with their own internal structures. Still, the experience of that depth of rejection had left me feeling profoundly alone.
When I think back on that girl, I want to give her a hug.
I want to tell her, it gets better.
We have many quiet nights ahead of us, many years of quiet solitude, but in that space, you’ll find your solace — you’ll find your strength. You’ll find that you were always more than enough.
I think, during that summer, I was so desperate to move on. I rushed things, maybe. No one had ever taught me it’s okay to take time to grieve when your world falls apart.
There’s something you learn in the softening, once you actually take time to heal in the way you need: you can’t be giving of yourself all the time. It doesn’t make you selfish to take time to be with yourself, it doesn’t make you selfish to open enough to receive. People love to give. There are people who love having you in their lives and they want nothing more than to make you feel good sometimes. They want to be needed, too.
It’s okay to let love in.
To the one who gives so much
If you are one who loves to give, keep giving. You are needed, here.
But also, please remember this: you cannot give from an empty cup. You can only give as much as you are willing to receive — not in a transactional way, from one person to another, but from the universe at large. There is an infinite amount of energy available to us, if only we open our hearts to receive it.
You need never do this all alone.
A gentle nudge: when you think of your life, where is one area you could use a little extra support right now? Take a moment to write it down on a piece of paper, and affirm, “I am open to receiving support.” Feel free to share in the comments — what are you calling in?
As a poet, writer, and artist, Maia Thom works with words to create spaces for people to breathe and come home to themselves. In 2020, she published her first anthology, Kitchen Table Talks: Simple Reminders + Thoughts on Life. You can find her on Instagram as @maia.thom where she shares poetry, art, and practical wisdom to offer daily moments of calm.






