To the Woman Who Is Afraid to Hope Again

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You’ve hoped before.

And it hurt.

So you built a life without expectations. 
You taught yourself not to dream too big. 
You quieted the ache so it wouldn’t grow louder than your logic.

Because hope felt dangerous. 
Like something that would always leave you empty-handed.

But love—hope isn’t foolish. 
It’s *brave.*

Hope means your heart still wants to live. 
Still wants to dance. Still wants to love. Still wants to believe.

This retreat is not a promise that life won’t hurt again. 
It’s a space to remember that your longing is sacred. 
That softness is not weakness. 
That hope is not naive—it’s revolutionary.

You don’t have to dive in. 
You don’t have to open all the way. 
You just have to let one tiny light flicker again.

We’ll protect it with you.

You’re allowed to hope. 
Even now. Especially now.