There are many days when we lean more towards a certain way of feeling and thinking for reasons that take up more space than any other possibilities that could also show up to clasp our hand.
And in going the distance that we do with what bumps us into the darkness, silence about the weariness of our journeys becomes a form of survival when in the presence of those who don’t seem to live with noises as loud as we do.
Because trying to make sense of the chaos by hanging on to what others have come to know in their lives leaves us unable to know how we could possibly hold ourselves safely in what actually exists while also wishing for just one more moment of noiselessness.
We have, after all, felt the destruction and painstakingly labeled ourselves with what was left on the inside, including the energy of each fallen tear from unwanted things.
But even though we have proven to have a proficiency for doing it with the shadows that moved in and never left, it hasn’t meant that there is something wrong, only that we haven’t learned to trust that we have been facing it all with a durability that is our own.
Long ago, my strength was hanging from a tree and having the scrapes to prove that it had been done.
Later on, some type of messy resilience appeared as fear screamed as hard as it could on the inside at the challenges that were before me on the outside.
After that, my toughness was trying not to spill onto anyone other than myself the level of anger that I felt but of course that never truly worked.
Then that power showed up as I stood alone as grief brutally enfolded me from a loss that others didn’t understand and even though I wanted them to feel me, they never could in a manner that would lighten the load that had become mine to have and to hold.
Force, then propped me up because while life went on around me, I was leaning heavily into the torn pieces of my home that were too big to be fixed with hugs and the kind of band-aids that skinned knees can be.
But now I have a friend that knew me when trees were an easy display of strength and over the years of being sculpted by debris and dragons, and not once has it cared how I looked while doing any of it, only that I would eventually realize that it was all being done with a durability that is mine alone to define.
This is me and I am slowly meeting the blooming meanings behind every one of my words and the scariest as well as the brightest part is that my artistry is unlike any other despite any similarities and that is how I am learning to build the term safety within my own home.
It’s hard not to feel overwhelmed by the community that has been planted underneath the surface, but we are strong enough to decide where what exists in the soil of what happened and what didn’t, grows from here.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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