Universe: You’re doing it again.

Me: What now?

Universe: Bracing.

Me: For what?

Universe: The bad thing.

Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Universe: Things are going well.

Me: They are.

Universe: And you’re waiting for something to go wrong.

Me: …

Universe: There it is.

Me: Can you blame me?

Universe: No.

Me: Every time something good happened before, it felt like it got taken away.

Universe: I know.

Me: So now I keep looking over my shoulder.

Universe: Waiting for life to prove your happiness is temporary.

Me: Exactly.

Universe: Can I tell you something?

Me: Please.

Universe: You survived so many storms that your nervous system started mistaking peace for danger.

Me: That feels uncomfortably accurate.

Universe: I know.

Me: So what do I do?

Universe: Stop treating joy like a visitor.

Me: What does that mean?

Universe: Every time happiness arrives, you act like it’s about to leave.

Me: Maybe because it always did.

Universe: No.

Me: No?

Universe: Moments left.

Me: …

Universe: Seasons left.

Me: …

Universe: People left.

Me: …

Universe: But joy itself never left you.

Me: Then where did it go?

Universe: It waited underneath the fear.

Me: That’s beautiful.

Universe: It’s true.

Me: Why does receiving feel harder than struggling sometimes?

Universe: Because struggling became familiar.

Me: And receiving didn’t.

Universe: Exactly.

Me: So how do I stop expecting disaster?

Universe: By collecting evidence of safety instead of evidence of danger.

Me: Like what?

Universe: The people who stayed.

Me: …

Universe: The prayers that were answered.

Me: …

Universe: The mornings you woke up and everything was okay.

Me: I never count those.

Universe: I know.

Me: I only count the hard things.

Universe: That’s because survival taught you.

Me: And now?

Universe: Now it’s time to learn a new skill.

Me: Which is?

Universe: Letting good things happen.

Me: That’s a skill?

Universe: One of the hardest.

Me: Why?

Universe: Because it requires trust.

Me: Trust in what?

Universe: That you don’t have to suffer to deserve beautiful things.

Me: …

Universe: You felt that one.

Me: Yeah.

Universe: You’ve spent enough years proving your strength.

Me: Then what do I prove now?

Universe: Nothing.

Me: Nothing?

Universe: Your next chapter isn’t about proving.

Me: What’s it about?

Universe: Receiving.

Me: That’s terrifying.

Universe: I know.

Me: And if I mess it up?

Universe: You won’t.

Me: How do you know?

Universe: Because flowers don’t have to earn sunlight.

Me: …

Universe: And neither do you.

Me: So what happens now?

Universe: Now?

Me: Yeah.

Universe: Now you open your hands.

Me: Why?

Universe: Because I can’t place blessings into fists that are still clenched.