Over the past year a lot has happened. Not little things but big things like first heartbreaks and my literal loss of identity.
A year ago I was preparing for one of the biggest and greatest things I’ve ever done. My solo road trip was life changing in so many ways. I learned how to be on my own again; I learned that I sleep better outside than anywhere else, and I also learned that your heart catches onto things before your brain can even dream up the possibility.
I planned on writing a ‘big tell’ all about the trip full of photos and even some video clips. I had so many plans.
Then last fall crashed on me like one giant plot twist from hell and I’m still trying to work my way out of it.
I gave up on a bunch of things then. Dreams, people, my heart, hope; everything. Well, almost everything.
When I was younger I used to feel so frustrated and not know how to express the tourmeant I was going through in my own mind. So I ran. And not like ‘Look ma! I’m exercising,’ but ‘If I don’t run like my life depends on it I am going to implode’. I don’t mean that as an exaggeration either.
I’ve since given up on running away from my feelings. And despite losing everything, I never gave up on words: the only thing that kept me sane. The one that hadn’t let me down. The only way I felt I could properly give tribute to the pain I felt was to string together words until their weight was lifted off of my heart.
So I wrote. And wrote. I spent my sleepless nights so overwhelmed by the chaos in my head that I wrote to try and create enough space for peace so I could sleep. Full of hurt and hate and love and remembrance. I even thought about putting together a small book to resemble my heart. Raw, bitter, and tattered. I have it all mapped out, down to the dedication. But things put into the world out of spite never do very well so until/unless I feel the need to share because it would bring light, those words will stay hidden.
But not all my words are hard. As I sit here now, after another failed love-attempt I realize it’s time. Time to stop running and time to go with the flow–of words. To let them ring out without the slightest hint of apology.
We do that you know? Apologize for feeling things and expressing them when they don’t match someone else’s. How can we be a good person without helping others through their darkness, sometimes saying the hard things? By clamming up we may not be rocking the boat but we aren’t putting winds in the sails either. It’s the opposite of truth and we aren’t doing our words justice.
I believe words are something we need to take ownership of. They were a gift and we need to use them to the best of our ability.
I feel weighed down by my words most of the time. It’s like I’m a bucket about two inches too full, uncontrollably sloshing them out to the wrong people or at the wrong time. The universe is urging me to dump out some words so I can become manageable again.
After everything I need to be manageable. It’s the only way. You know how sometimes you’re so not okay that you have no choice but to be okay. I don’t have any more time to waste on trying to hold it all together. And to be honest I barely have the energy for anything else.
Letting go of some words makes me manageable but I don’t want to just survive I want to empty myself, to let go of it all just once to truly mourn and rejoice. We all do.
So with my words I am screaming
LET THE BROKEN REIGN AND MAY WE ALL SEE THAT IT IS OKAY, OKAY TO BE LOST AND UNHEALED. OKAY TO BE UNSURE AND FOREIGN.
We all have a story to tell and I plan on using my words to do so with ownership and without hesitation. Just like medicine them words is gooood.
Hugs & Kittens,