On truth, courage, love & justice.

This is probably the most vulnerable I've ever been with you. Thank you for staying.

This is art, too.

This is art too.

Through it all, there is love.
Through it all, there is hope.
Through it all, there is peace.
Through it all, there is joy.

I savour every breath.

Photo by Grégoire Hervé-Bazin on Unsplash

UNEDITED POST BELOW
[Listen to the audio & it will make sense]

There’s going to be a tenderness to this post.

I feel sad as I write this.

I feel like I bit off more than I could chew.
I feel like I found myself doing something I didn’t want to do.

And I’m grappling with that.

I don’t want to perform. I don’t want to pretend.
I just want to be.

I don’t have capacity to share Dear Diary posts daily.

And no one asked me to, but a part of me wanted to.
A part of me wanted to do it.

And I’m stubborn (or at least, I can be). I don’t want to outsource it.
I don’t want to make this copy & pasted.
I know I need to systematize things at some point.

But I’m so fucking angry.
And I’m so fucking angry.

I want to talk about the weight of grief.

I don’t realise how much pressure I place on myself until it slaps me in the face.

Here I am.
I’m here to stay.

Hold me.
I’m feeling deeply.

I feel an urge not to make this post pretty.
Fuck… anything I’ve ever thought or been taught about how things should be.

I want direction.
I want to be led.
I want to be told what to do.
I want to be comforted.
I want to trust in other people’s direction.

I’m so fucking angry.

I’m feeling the weight of that grief.
How much is it really safe to share?

There’s so much here. So much energy. So much truth.

I don’t know where to start or end.

The wound of too-muchness cuts deep.
I know how to be alone.
Being seen in it still can be excruciating.

And why am I hiding from that?
Why am I still hiding from myself?

This is real too. This is true too.

This is just as beautiful.
This is just as special.

I don’t need to try to be sparkly.

I am special. I am sparkly. I shine so brightly.
I know I do.

I never need to try.
I never needed to try.
I never needed to put any pressure on myself.

And right now, I am grieving for the little girl who was cast out. That little black— or raven— sheep. Her confusion. Her longing. The self-reliance that cuts so deep.

I see & feel it more than ever now… because I am ready to face it.

I’m ready to face it. I’m ready to face her. These are not just empty words.
Do I want to record a voiceover?

Everything feels pretentious.

I wish that little girl could’ve been more nurtured. My heart aches for her. My heart breaks for her. This is such a tender, bittersweet reconciliation. I don’t know what to say.

I feel a deep sense of loss.

That’s all there is.

I don’t need to be anywhere but here.
I don’t need to [try to] move through it.
I don’t want to state-shift.

I don’t want to use my superpowers.

I just want to be with her.
I just want to be with her.

I just want to be with her, here.

And I want to be able to crack open, and be seen in that. And be safe in that. I want to be safe to crack open. There is so much here.

I’m reminded…

Everything is revealed to us at exactly the right time.

Discernment.

Where are you pushing?
Where are you pulling?
Where are you fearing?

What is getting in the way?

Is anything missing? Nothing is missing.

Just…

I don’t want to be anywhere but here.

Moving through explanations.
Moving through how XYZ might be seen.
Moving through the layers.

So many layers. Endless layers.

And so much grief.

I am grieving the loss of the little girl.
The little girl who needs me.
The little girl who needed me.

And I feel so much about sharing this publicly.

Ready to get my claws out for any kind of critique.

You will not hurt her.
You will not hurt me.

Peace.

This peace is real too.

And as it softens, as I soften, I am still.

I am renewed.

I forgive.

I am open-hearted.

I could rage or I could soften.
We need both.
We always need both.

The rage comes from love.

It feels like this is the longest email of my life.

Why would anyone read this?
Why would anyone bother?

Well— fuck that.

People can make their own choices.
I’m allowed to be here too. I’m allowed to be here too.

I had a “pointy” call with a business partner.

He asked if I was people-pleasing. I wasn’t, but he was right. There was something underneath. I wanted something to be there. I wanted us to be peaceful. In harmony.

I want you to know that I struggle to accept myself too, sometimes.

There are layers.

I am cultivating discernment.
Why do I feel so angry?
Why do I feel so bitter?
Why do I feel so SAD?

I wish someone had taught me this.
I wish someone had taught me where & how to put my energy.
I wish my parents had been there.
I wish this didn’t feel so ugly to write.

I wish everyone had the skills to be able to be with their own & other people’s emotions in the way that I do.

I wish it didn’t feel so scary to be seen to be arrogant.

I want comfort.

There is a loss.
There is a void.
There is an opening.

The tears roll down my cheeks.
She want to be loved by me.
She wants to be loved by me.

I stay here with her too.