Loved Out Loud

There’s something incredibly healing about being loved in a way that doesn’t require you to perform, prove, or shrink.

Ryan loves me out loud.

Not in flashy ways. Not in ways meant for show. But in the quiet, sincere moments that matter the most—like when I send him a simple picture and his reaction is pure excitement. Like I’ve just made his entire day by existing. He tells me how lucky he is, every single time, and I still catch myself pausing when he says it… because for so long, I wasn’t used to being cherished like that.

With him, I feel seen.

Not just looked at—but understood. He sees my softness and my strength. My scars and my growth. He sees the woman I am now, not the version shaped by survival. And he never tries to change me. He simply loves me where I am.

Ryan makes me feel beautiful in a way that goes far beyond appearance. He makes me feel beautiful because I am safe to be myself. Because I am chosen. Because I am valued. Because I don’t have to question his intentions or brace myself for the other shoe to drop.

I feel safe with him—and that might be the most powerful thing of all.

Safe to laugh loudly.
Safe to be vulnerable.
Safe to rest.
Safe to be loved fully, without fear.

After everything I’ve been through, this kind of love feels like exhaling after holding my breath for years. It feels steady. It feels warm. It feels real.

And yes—he says he’s lucky to have me.
But the truth is, I know how rare it is to be loved like this.

I am one damn lucky woman.