This is just...wonderful. The truthfulness. The writing about the process of writing. The digging-in to what cries to be avoided at all costs. Yours is a voice that is so resonant for me. I know it's hard to keep sharing your bare self with this relentless world, but your words are like a mini life-support moment when I read them, just this "ahhh" of yes this is it. So I appreciate you doing what must be done to say it and share it. I believe we write to save our own lives, in the end. But when we share our own true story with others, we share life, and that is something!
I loved the part of pausing when you felt like you were trying too hard for the next words. I do this in my writing and I've also found I've been doing this in life. When I feel myself trying too hard I'll pause and wait for it to come back to me. (I also thoroughly enjoyed this entire piece so much so thank you for the whole damn thing!)
As a 41yo trying to get back to her True Self partially through writing who also woke up feeling all the pain of her own childhood wound of rejection and "what even is the point of any of this" - I can confidently say that you are definitely following in the footsteps of the writers who helped you press on towards the choices that would lead you back to yourself. This really made me feel some true solidarity, so thank you.
I’ve been learning that the stillness of life must be found, in order to obtain the fullness of it. Restless minds makes this a challenge. Minute by minute, moment by moment. I think it makes sense that finding that fullness within the stillness feels new and unfamiliar; yet all too familiar to a part of you that didn’t yet have words. A yearning and a weeping with a mix of excitement and unfamiliars. A knowing to let go, and loosen grips, but a stillness to it that feels newly controlled and regulated. All being experienced inside of you, while looking around at the safe and cozy space you fought like hell to create; at a time that the life you’re moving towards, wasn’t yet planned or expected or imagined. The stillness IS what reminds you of all that you’ve built, unraveled, built again, unraveled again… more building, more unraveling, always evolving. Youre feeling touch in a new way, from little bodies that embrace you with care and admiration and warmth; but one that challenges your aching, deeply feeling soul. One that feels exhilarated by this, but terrified by it. I don’t think she’s scared because she thinks she’ll be bad at it either… I think she’s terrified because she knows that she won’t. That she’s the most embodied she’s ever been. And that it’s BECAUSE of her ability to feel, that you’re able to feel all of this too. And some days it fuckin hurts. And pain starts to feel one and the same. Meeting in the middle somewhere; but nonetheless… feeling and loving. I think your miracle exists inside your ability to do both. Because we humans must be able to feel in order to love. And I know the feeling part has been a lifetime journey of coming to know. And I’m so glad you share some of her with us in this way. Continuing to be your one and only permission giver, giving us all permission to do the same. I believe this is most definitely an essay about love. Thanks for sharing it with us ❤️
This is just...wonderful. The truthfulness. The writing about the process of writing. The digging-in to what cries to be avoided at all costs. Yours is a voice that is so resonant for me. I know it's hard to keep sharing your bare self with this relentless world, but your words are like a mini life-support moment when I read them, just this "ahhh" of yes this is it. So I appreciate you doing what must be done to say it and share it. I believe we write to save our own lives, in the end. But when we share our own true story with others, we share life, and that is something!
I loved the part of pausing when you felt like you were trying too hard for the next words. I do this in my writing and I've also found I've been doing this in life. When I feel myself trying too hard I'll pause and wait for it to come back to me. (I also thoroughly enjoyed this entire piece so much so thank you for the whole damn thing!)
I've also watched my birth video, and I've never met anyone else who has had that experience!! What a wild experience.
As a 41yo trying to get back to her True Self partially through writing who also woke up feeling all the pain of her own childhood wound of rejection and "what even is the point of any of this" - I can confidently say that you are definitely following in the footsteps of the writers who helped you press on towards the choices that would lead you back to yourself. This really made me feel some true solidarity, so thank you.
your writing has changed my life, thank you <3
I’ve been learning that the stillness of life must be found, in order to obtain the fullness of it. Restless minds makes this a challenge. Minute by minute, moment by moment. I think it makes sense that finding that fullness within the stillness feels new and unfamiliar; yet all too familiar to a part of you that didn’t yet have words. A yearning and a weeping with a mix of excitement and unfamiliars. A knowing to let go, and loosen grips, but a stillness to it that feels newly controlled and regulated. All being experienced inside of you, while looking around at the safe and cozy space you fought like hell to create; at a time that the life you’re moving towards, wasn’t yet planned or expected or imagined. The stillness IS what reminds you of all that you’ve built, unraveled, built again, unraveled again… more building, more unraveling, always evolving. Youre feeling touch in a new way, from little bodies that embrace you with care and admiration and warmth; but one that challenges your aching, deeply feeling soul. One that feels exhilarated by this, but terrified by it. I don’t think she’s scared because she thinks she’ll be bad at it either… I think she’s terrified because she knows that she won’t. That she’s the most embodied she’s ever been. And that it’s BECAUSE of her ability to feel, that you’re able to feel all of this too. And some days it fuckin hurts. And pain starts to feel one and the same. Meeting in the middle somewhere; but nonetheless… feeling and loving. I think your miracle exists inside your ability to do both. Because we humans must be able to feel in order to love. And I know the feeling part has been a lifetime journey of coming to know. And I’m so glad you share some of her with us in this way. Continuing to be your one and only permission giver, giving us all permission to do the same. I believe this is most definitely an essay about love. Thanks for sharing it with us ❤️