I have been dreading actually sitting down with myself and trying to put words onto a page.
I don’t think I’ve had any real revelation or moments that I want to untangle. I don’t think I have anything of worth to say. I don’t have anything good for myself to share.
I have no insight.
So, I’ve been trying to think of what I need to do. Currently sitting here, staring at the drink I just ordered and wondering if I have anything worthwhile to say.
I had a lot of hope there for awhile.
Hope that things were changing. Hope that I would be able to hold on.
Hope that something was around the corner.
But, just like the crash after a performance or a vacation or an event that you’ve been waiting for; there is a crash after a burst of hope.
I think I hoped that actually believing in the hope would change something.
But now, as I look down, my hands are empty and I have to find a way to cultivate the thing that I want.
It’s scary to write these words. It’s scary to put them in a place where people can read them.
It’s scary because I feel like I’m failing at being who I’m supposed to be.
And they feeling inevitably makes me want to run.
I’ve felt it for a few weeks.
That desire to hide. To not truly put words on a page.
To hype myself up instead of admitting that I felt defeat.
It’s been almost a year and 8 months since I left my preschool teaching job.
It’s been just over a year and a half since my mom died.
And lately I’ve been having to push down the narrative that I haven’t done enough.
That I should have achieved more.
That I should be stronger.
That, once again, I’m actually failing at life.
I want to say a lot of things right now.
I want to hype myself out of this hole.
I want to tell you I know what tangible thing is next.
I can tell you though this simple thing:
I still haven’t run.
I’m still to the best of my ability showing up for the ones who have shown up for me.
I’m choosing the things and people that give me life and hope and joy and declining the things and people that feel like an obligation.
At the end of the day, I get to choose who I let into my home.
And whether I’m good at it or not- continuing to choose grace over myself.
None of it is simple.
But it is worth it.
I don’t know what else to say. I do know that none of these hard things are easy.
Choosing what’s good for myself and my soul over what other people think is good for myself and my soul.
I started a journey about two years ago of creating strong boundaries.
Creating those boundaries changed the narrative of who I was to people.
But you can’t let people decide who you are based on what they need to get from you.
And I must repeat: only you can decide who gets to come in your home.
And there it is: some hope I’ve cultivated.
It’s in my hands. (And so is the tequila based martini).
This is why we need to do as the magical creative human in my life Betsy Garmon says “we must practice our practice”.
We have to sit with the things that help us stir up life.
We have to do the things that bring us back to ourselves.
For me; it’s sitting at a bar and writing.
That’s how I get to the point.
That’s how I talk to God.
That’s I create hope.
So thank you.
Thank you for helping me find my point.
Thank you for reading to the end.
And thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to those (whom they absolutely know who they are) who have created hope for themselves that I’ve been able to take part of.
To whom it may concern,
Here’s some hope.