I wrote something last week I didn’t want anyone to read. I posted it and while some people read it, it didn’t get the traction my words normally do and honestly- great.
The words felt ugly and in-between-ish and like I was letting someone into my cluttered, clothing filled room.
But, here I am again.
I’ve erased a lot of words on this Monday. I’ve erased words and second guessed my abilities and contemplating quitting and hitting rewind and trying something again and again and again.
I wanted to give up today.
I wanted to give up because I feel like I’ve outgrown the box I put myself in.
I wanted to give up today because I absolutely feel like I should be stronger than the fear that battles against the thing in my soul that tells me that I’m more than the box I put myself in to heal.
Amidst my exhaustion and my grief and my physical ailements and all the ways that I feel like I’m absolutey not being enough for all the people in my life is the fact that I put myself in a little enclosure to heal.
To heal from burnout, to heal from the friendships that told me I wasn’t enough for them, to heal from the ways I felt like I abandoned people when I left the Y, to heal from losing my mom, to heal from inability to keep moving forward after I lost my mom, to heal from the ways I feel like I’ve failed people because my grief got too big.
In all honesty the list goes on and on.
But the box shouldn’t go on and on.
The box needs to break.
Because in spite of; I’ve kept moving forward.
And that, to be absolutely frank, terrifies me.
And I don’t know what to do with it.
How do I let myself out of the place I put myself to keep myself from getting hurt more than I already felt like I was?
How do I get past the fear?
How do I stand again?
I know people might think it’s silly that I do all of my writing for the most part in crowded bars. That my best writing and thought processing comes from those places.
But, really, right now, I’m sitting in a crowded bar on a Monday. I’m waiting for my dinner and drinking one of my favorite drinks and I’m undisturbed by the noise around me.
What I do know, beyond a shadow of doubt though is this: I’m not the only one.
No, there is no one else writing, it’s pretty loud and boisterous currently. It’s just that, the amazing, hauntingly heartbreakingly beautiful thing, about humanity is that we are all writing and watching the words of our own story go in front of us and around us.
i know in this bar right now are people have and are dealing with grief and burnout and rejection. People dealing with being single and are having the best day and the worst day.
I know, with almost 100% certainity there are people who are trying to learn to stand again.
So, even though I got no anwsers. Even though I still have the fear of what happens when I chose to let myself out of the place I put myself in to heal, I know that I am not alone.
And I know, sitting in this crowded bar, there is a hope I hold that will find a way to move me forward.
We’ll stand again friends.
With love,
Meg
she writes on sundays 