When love arrives…
Love arrives as a soft glance, a moment of attention, or an affirmation.
The little girl’s face in this short Instagram says it all.
Love doesn’t just land.
Love lifts.
When you’re loved, you feel chosen.
I CHOOSE YOU
Some people don’t leave.
They just stop reaching.
standing in the room
like a lamp that still works
No one bothers to turn on.
Do you remember that feeling?
The quiet vanishing?
The way “chosen” can dissolve
without a goodbye,
like breath on a mirror.
It happens with lovers
who swear you are home
and still keep a suitcase packed
inside their closet.
In families too
In friendships,
In offices that call you “rockstar”
then forget to ask if you’re OK.
Sometimes you are not rejected
You’re simply not selected.
Not today.
Not this time.
Not by the people who should’ve known
your presence is not a convenience.
And if you’re honest,
there were days you didn’t choose you either.
You hushed your voice.
You numbed your needs.
You put yourself in the “later” pile
as if later is a real place people go.
But then…
there are those tender moments
when someone looks at you
Not for your output.
Not for your polish.
Not for how well you carried your pain
without making it anyone’s burden.
Just… for the fact that YOU exist.
For your soul that tries again.
For your softness that survived.
For your particular way of being human.
For your you.
I learned these feelings from my mother.
I watched her carry heavy pain inside
the kind you don’t name out loud
because naming it
might make it real.
She didn’t have language for the hurt.
She had a stove.
She had her soft hands.
She had a way of turning survival
into something warm.
Every year on my birthday
she made my favorite dish
not because life was easy,
but because love, to her,
was not a feeling.
It was a devotion.
No parade.
No speeches.
Just a plate that said:
I know you.
I know what you like.
I prepared for you.
And that’s what choosing is, isn’t it?
Not the dramatic declaration.
Simple, steady devotion.
The sacred ordinary.
So now, as the year closes
I want to ask you something
that might change your whole next chapter:
Who in your life is starving
for the smallest proof
that they matter to you?
Not the “love you!” tossed over the shoulder
on the way to the next task
but the kind of love that slows things down.
The kind that says:
Tell me more.
Take your time.
I’m here.
I’m not going anywhere.
I choose you.
And then…
the boldest question of all:
Will you choose yourself
with that same tenderness?
With your messy edges.
With your unfinished story.
With your hopeful child-heart
still tapping on the inside of your ribs
still hoping you will answer.
Put your hand on your chest.
Say it like a door opening.
It’s a return.
I choose you.
I Choose You.
Healing isn’t about fixing.
It’s about remembering your truth.
Contact me if you recognize yourself in these words and want to move from “performing fine” to feeling alive.
Love Always,
Dr. Ardeshir Mehran
hello@ardeshirmehran.com
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