Whelp, here goes.
Take 273 at trying to show up and be consistent and stop hiding in all the ways I encourage others to do with my work.
The last 18 months have been too hard and confusing, I’m still processing. I’m still coming to terms with darkness and light.
I’m still working out what it means to be alive, and that I still am.
I can’t show up for others when I don’t show up for myself. I’ve finally realised what they meant when they say no one can love you if you don’t love yourself. How can they possibly love you when you haven’t unmasked who you really are, gotten to the bottom of it, and not only accepted it for every glistening edge of princess cut diamond, but learnt to love it, adore it, revere it.
I’ve been working on the dance with my demons for about a year now, and most days I still feel like I’ve forgotten the choreography.
But I’m back it, every day, learning the steps.
Some days going with the flow and embracing the music, some days getting in my head about why and how and the physics of movement to the point where I can’t move at all, my mind crippling my physicality.
See, most days I’m afraid of my brain and letting it wander.
I’ve filled every silence with hours of news, ridiculous to do lists that have to be completed before I can move on, podcasts upon podcasts so not a moment with my mind can be allowed into the fresh summer air, because I’m afraid of the endless winter setting in once again.