So… I’m gonna try to write a little bit more here. Mainly for me… but also for yous. Irrelevant things, sad things, thinking things? Only when I can. If it gets too sad, you can duck out – no hard feelings. Holding it in hasn’t helped. Maybe sharing some would be better. And just for the record: I have my long time therapist that I’m still hooked-in with. She is helping me to do the ugly, heavy lifting of these
This time of year is when I work the hardest. It’s the time of year when I am most not OK.￼This year hasn’t been an exception. There is this visceral grittiness ￼￼ about this whole year that i haven’t been able to shake. ￼This wholesale callousness that’s saddening. I’m supposed to keep plodding along but each step makes me wonder how and why. This year feels like obliteration. How do you come back from that, again in one life?#truestoriesof2020
My Mom used to tell of how she spent the first few years of our lives (my older brother and I) crying. She was devastated that her first two children were born disabled. She would spend that time in supplication, utterly heartbroken between prayers. And then one day she stopped crying. She got up and began living between those prayers instead. In honor of her, today I’ll get up and stop crying. #TrueStoriesOf2020
Breathing, feels different in this space. Feels like convalescing and the inability nor desire to get up off the floor because there is nothing thankfully chasing me here. Breathing here is complex. It is some part gratitude and heartbreak mixed with as yet known realization. To be tired. And to find rest. Mm.
This pandemic has made me stop talking. Has frozen my thoughts from being born. Has stifled my creativity. Has wrapped me in familiar trauma drenched bandages, made new. It’s covered my eyes. It’s muted the taste on my tongue. This pandemic has washed up and over and through Me diluted me I don’t remember how to exist beyond the hours of the similar days I don’t know… #truestoriesof2020