Something has changed.
Sometimes it feels as though everything is new whilst other times, it’s like nothing is different at all. But I feel changed.
Every single night, I lay down and feel the words settle in my body and then level out in my brain. I think of writing down every truth and hardship: the landscape poetry of my insides. Then, as always, it amounts to nothing. What is stopping me? Am I worried that I won’t feel the same in the morning? That those words will feel hollow or worse – dramatic? That I may wake up, fully formed, and regret what I shared? Am I terrified that writing those letters out will make all of this “real” again? Is there still a huge fear of judgement and rejection from those around me?
Maybe that’s the problem.
Or maybe I am the problem.
I have come full circle on a shapeless idea.
Regardless, here are the words I’ve wanted to write for so long.
I am caught in a maelstrom of swimming up from the all too familiar depths of sadness whilst desperately trying to bask in those magical moments that make life feel worth it.
On a good day, I am full of love and light: showering friends and family in adoration, gifts, quality time and meaningful words.
On a bad day, existing hurts. Every fibre of my being tells me that this thing we’re all doing – just “living” – is an alien concept. That I have to be working towards some bigger goal: some landmark achievement which will mean I leave a legacy behind once my organs are giving somebody else life and my ashes are sprouting out trees. And if I’m merely existing – not acting on thoughts, not constantly people pleasing, not dedicating endless hours to a greater good – why does it feel like a waste?
Why is there no happy medium? Why are the days of just plodding along so few and far between? Why does contentment feel like a lifetime away and yet, sometimes, I find it whilst lost in a song; in the pages of a book; in those hazy fifteen minutes of waking up on a Saturday with nothing to do? Why is it so hard to cling to those fleeting glimpses of joy and bliss, then add them up cumulatively to give my life (more) meaning?
I don’t have the answers yet but I am working towards them. I may find them all out by the next blog post. I may figure some things out as I get older. A revelation may strike me on my deathbed. Or maybe I will never find out at all.
But I can’t add another “what if” to my tapestry. I need understanding. And, thanks to my inherent and offensive lack of patience, I want it now.
When I started this blog, I hid behind others: not just because I wanted to share their stories and feel close to people but because I was desperate to eschew my own vulnerabilities. I have finally reached a place where I want to talk about them: share them: discuss them: learn from them: and work on them.
That’s not to say I won’t feature anyone else again. In fact, I hope this shift will push me to reach out to others. For far too long I have been content to exist alone: without the need for others, I have been able to let the other half of me rest and recharge before facing the world. But there are two sides to every coin and perhaps that distance between the two is what makes things feel so overwhelming.
From here on out, I want to share my thoughts with you all. The absolute spectrum of humanity: my successes and victories; my fears, worries, concerns and insecurities; my thoughts on what goes on in our heads and what it means to ”live”. I can only hope you will feel a stir of something, whether it’s an echo of familiarity or the discomfort of something new.
This change isn’t a cause for concern. The deafening silence from the blog was something to be worried about: I had retreated, covered my eyes and ears and pretended nothing needed to be done.
In fact, I feel better now. I can look back in retrospect and piece my thoughts together. I can justify my feelings and move forward, making sure my next low is not as catastrophic as the last. I can share my thoughts with you and every fibre of my being hopes that you can help.
So this is it. Beginning again. I am lost somewhere in an ocean of terror, relief and uncertainty. But one thing I am certain of is my readiness.
Thank you for everything along the way. This is a new chapter and it’s ours; together.
xo
HOW TO BE; 