47 Quotes by Jeanette LeBlanc

Because in our pain we must find each other – mirror to mirror the grace of our shared humanity, the stunningly broken beauty of our shared grief. And you can let your grief see my grief and let our tears mingle into some kind of healing alchemy, and you’ll know what i know. That we are never alone. I promise. You and me? We are never, ever alone.

You are not a failure.And you are not alone.This I know to be true.Read these lines as many times as you need to in order to start believing.

We are not meant to live in isolation. Not in nuclear families or bubbled existence. The richness of life is found in community, in cooperation, in becoming a part of a greater whole. Expand your bubble, drop your shield. Invite love in. Do not attempt to do it alone.

There is not enough air in the room but you are breathing.There is nobody here but you are held.You have broken and the world is breaking and we will always rebuild.Do you hear me, love?We will always rebuild.

Do not try quiet my voice.Do not attempt to soften my edges or tame my prowl.I am inhabiting my wild.I am encompassing the dance.I am no longer burning down.That time is over.I am the white hot ignition.I am starting the fire.I am rising like flame.

The audacity is in the living, not in the choosing. You are fearless enough to keep breathing; in the face of loss and pain and humility and gratitude and gifts and brilliance and confusion. This is the amazing thing. Right or wrong can never be anything but small things in the face of your gigantic, intrepid spirit

Butterflies are beautiful, but the process of emerging from the chrysalis and spreading your wings can hurt like fucking hell. But still, you will survive the transformation (over and over again) and you will fly. Remember this when it hurts the most. This is the metamorphosis, the going down to liquid, and the rising again. It’s no joke – but damn, it’s one hell of a journey.

I know the hard ground and the taste of the salt water I’m made of and the way even getting out of bed feels impossible some days. I know how some moments there’s not even enough air.I know the desperate and the bargains you want to make with the universe and every last prayer you’ve prayed to gods you don’t even believe in.But stupid? No, love.Not stupid. Not you. You are infinitely, impossibly, beautifully human.

You alone own your story. Do not let another tell it, and if you find yourself in the company of one determined to rewrite your words or own your narrative, fight like hell until you hold it again. There is little in life that is solely ours. Your story is one of those priceless few things. It is beyond precious. The people meant to be In your life will only strengthen your voice, not take it from you.