How to Protect What’s Real
Not with walls. But with attention.
dear friend,
Once you’ve remembered who you are—
and begun to rebuild something real—
a quiet new question shows up:
How do I protect this?
Not by defending it loudly.
Not by locking it up.
But by staying close.
By tending to it.
Because what’s real isn’t fragile—
but it is alive.
And like anything alive, it needs care.
I’ve learned this the slow way.
That depth doesn’t protect itself.
That connection, honesty, trust—
they don’t survive on autopilot.
They live in the small, repeated choices.
Where you put your time.
How you speak when you’re tired.
Whether you stay kind when you don’t get your way.
Real things don’t shout for your attention.
They whisper.
And if you’re not listening—
you miss them.
A lot of what we call “protection” is actually fear in disguise.
We over-explain.
We shut down.
We push people away just to see if they’ll come back.
We build walls and call them boundaries,
but deep down, we’re just scared to be seen.
I get it.
Truly.
But I’ve learned this:
Protecting what’s real isn’t about guarding.
It’s about nourishing.
It’s checking in.
It’s keeping your word.
It’s noticing when something needs space—
and when something just needs you.
This applies to everything that matters:
your relationships.
your values.
your work.
your inner world.
Whatever you’re growing—
don’t rush it.
Don’t force it to prove its worth.
Just stay with it.
Keep listening.
Keep tending.
That’s how we protect what’s real.
Not with control—
but with care.
with love and presence,
Malte
P.S.
If you’re holding something real right now—a relationship, a feeling, a fragile beginning—
you’re not alone.
I hope this letter helps you trust your way of protecting it.
Gently. Steadily. In your own time.
And next week, I’ll write about letting go—
not as a loss,
but as a kind of love, too.