Your Solitude Preserves Your Light

The mask is heavy this morning, isn't it? You smile at the right moments, you nod, you perform the version of yourself that everyone expects, but inside you are screaming for a door to close.

You are terrified that if you ask for space, the people waiting for you will interpret it as rejection. They will think you are pulling away because you don't love them.

But the light does not need you to be constantly available to be constantly present. There was a man who healed a servant from miles away, simply by speaking a word; his power did not require him to be in the same room to be effective.

Your need for solitude is not a denial of your love. It is the preservation of your light.

You cannot pour from an empty cup, and you cannot shine if you are burning out. The truth is this — stepping back is not running away.

It is how you make sure you have enough light left to give when you return.