From Survival to Softness...A second book?

Here we are again.

Every time I think I’m finished with blogging; God seems to have other plans.

What started as a simple question for ChatGPT turned into tears and a brand-new book idea. I can’t believe I ever thought I was completely healed. And yes, I know healing isn’t linear, that it ebbs and flows. But I just wrote a book about healing for my daughters, and now I realize I may need one for myself.

As a millennial, I work hard to do it all: practice self-care, be a great mom, show up fully at work, volunteer in my community, and be a pillar for those around me. That’s what purpose is about, right? But in talking with ChatGPT, I realized just how exhausted I am from trying to earn love and support, from peers, family, even colleagues. Love, for me, has always felt performative. Even in the smallest gesture, I feel indebted.

Since I was 12, I can’t remember receiving unconditional love. For me, love has always come with strings, tasks, or expectations.

That realization hit me hard. For years, I’ve been surviving, pushing through, meeting expectations, proving my worth, without ever truly allowing myself to rest or feel safe in love. Survival became my default, my armor.

But what if I didn’t have to survive all the time? What if I could let go of the constant striving and allow myself to soften? To receive love without calculating, without performing, without feeling indebted?

This is the place I’m learning to enter: a space where self-compassion isn’t a luxury, but a necessity. Where softness doesn’t mean weakness, but courage, the courage to acknowledge my exhaustion, my grief, my unmet needs. Where I can finally practice the kind of love I’ve longed for since I was a child: unconditional, steady, and free.

From survival to softness, that’s where I want to live now. And I’m learning, slowly but surely, that it’s not only possible, it’s essential.

The scariest part of writing these words and coming into communion with God’s promises is the fear that I may never receive this kind of love. It may seem contradictory to believe in God and still feel fear, but life has taught me that we don’t always receive what we believe we deserve. I watched my 90-year-old grandmother die feeling unloved, and I see the same pain in my mother’s eyes at age 52.

But, what if…this time could be different? What if the love I’ve longed for isn’t something I have to earn, perform for, or calculate? What if God’s promises are real, and His love for me is steady, unconditional, and not dependent on my performance or worthiness? It’s terrifying to imagine, because it requires me to let go of old habits of surviving on approval, guarding my heart, and expecting disappointment. But maybe letting go is exactly what makes space for something new. Maybe allowing myself to believe in this love is the first step toward truly receiving it.

I don’t have all the answers yet, and some days the fear still lingers. But even in that fear, I sense a whisper of hope, a reminder that my story doesn’t have to repeat the pain of those who came before me. Maybe, just maybe, I can experience love as it was always meant to be: whole, healing, and freeing.

Be blessed,

De’dria Louise Bynum