You Complete Me.
I happened to be watching one of my all-time favourite movies, Jerry Maguire, when that famous line came up: “You complete me.” I closed my iPad. And for some reason, I kept thinking about those three words. What is it about certain people that makes them different from everyone else? Why can one person make an ordinary Tuesday feel like an adventure? Why does thinking about someone sometimes bring a smile to your face before you have even realized you are smiling? Why do we want to tell certain people everything? The little things. What we ate. Where we went. Something ridiculous that happened at work. A song we heard. A memory that suddenly came back. The first person we want to call when something wonderful happens. And, sometimes, the first person we want when everything falls apart. I think I may have figured out why. We spend most of our lives trying to be understood. We know ourselves rather well. We know the parts we are proud of. We also know the parts we would rather nobody see: Our insecurities, bad habits, and fears The mistakes we wish we could erase. And the ones we are still fighting. Then, every once in a while, someone comes along who somehow sees all of it. Not just the polished version. All of it. And they still stay. That, I think, is where something extraordinary happens. Because being loved for your strengths feels wonderful. But being trusted despite your weaknesses feels different. There is a particular kind of freedom in knowing that someone has already seen behind the curtain. They know where you are vulnerable. They know what can hurt you. They know the things you are not particularly proud of. And yet, you don't feel exposed around them. Why? Because it is the real you. No performance. No mask. You are safe and finally, you can simply be you. And perhaps that is what “you complete me” really means. Not that another person fills some empty space inside us. We are not half a person waiting for another half. That is a rare kind of love. And it isn't necessarily romantic. It can be a parent. A lifelong friend. A lifelong friend. A partner. Someone who has known you since you were a different version of yourself. And perhaps the most beautiful part is: When someone knows your weaknesses and never uses them against you, something inside you quietly changes. You stop protecting yourself quite so much. You trust. You soften. You begin to belong. Maybe that is what it means to become theirs. Not because they possess you. But because somewhere along the way, you have entrusted them with the parts of yourself you don't hand to just anybody. So, who’s the person who knows exactly where you are the weakest and somehow makes you feel the strongest? Keep Orbiting, Bob
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