Money.

Dear Money,

I am writing to make amends. I am writing in hopes of changing our relationship.

I had declared you freedom.

And in doing so, I had declared myself imprisoned.

I had declared you choice.

And in doing so, I had declared myself coerced.

I had declared you security.

And in doing so, I had declared myself unsafe.

I externalized to you that which was birthright to me, disempowering myself.

I held you accountable for giving me what was always accessible to me in this moment.

And I blamed you when I felt those birth rights were being taken away.

I chased you relentlessly, believing this was the only way I could be who I wanted to be, and to do what I wanted to do.

And I believed that to be worthy of you—and therefore worthy of freedom, of choice, of security—I had to be perfect.

In ways I see only now, I resented you for this.

That was unfair to you. And I want our relationship to change.

I take ownership of my freedom.

For the truth that I can be free, with and without you.

I take ownership of my choice.

For the truth that I have choice, with and without you.

I take ownership of my safety.

For the truth that I am safe, with and without you.

I reclaim all the parts of me that I believed were imperfect, and had therefore disowned.

I take back all the energy I spent believing myself to be imprisoned, coerced, under threat.

I acknowledge that none of this had anything to do with you. That you are multifaceted just like me. That you are imperfect just like me.

I look forward to meeting you from this new place.

To know your merit and your imperfection.

And I look forward to both of us, in all our imperfection, navigating this life together, exactly as we are.

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