The Sound of Change
Feeling small, today. It’s like walking around without skin- everything is magnified. I know it’s a natural response to sitting with emotions instead of eating them, ignoring them, distracting from them. That doesn’t make it easier, though.
My hands are empty. I miss the simple things, like holding and being held. I miss companionship, familiarity, known-knowns. This space held (deliberately) open is a painful place. Instead of rushing to distract myself in a thousand ways, instead of chasing new and shiny relationships, people, things, gear, experiences… I’m just quietly sorting my shit.
It’s not glamorous. It’s not trendy. It’s not any class of fun at all. It’s not meant to be. I’m done chasing “Happy” and “Hopeful” and “Fun”. All those things are good, very good- but they arrive on the heels of hard work and accountability, not as Christmas ornaments on a one-dimensional tree.
In the past, I’ve been a superstar at finding ways to distract myself from the business of living, of growing, of healing. There’s been a steep learning curve in the past year as I’ve untangled and acknowledged my own needs, my own truth, and my own direction. It’s been lonely and dark and ridiculously hard.
I’m at the stage where I am choosing to reach out, to be vulnerable, to laugh again, to look for opportunities to share experiences with friends and to build more friendships with folks from every walk of life. In some ways, that’s been even harder for me than being completely alone. People are people. They come and go. They get busy, they are at different stages in their own lives, and for all the reasons imaginable- it’s hard to find good conversation, connection and consistency that I deeply need.
I’m choosing to focus on BEING the kind of person I would want to hang with- whether on the side of a rock wall or on the mat or just sprawled on the side of a grassy hill by the river. In every possible way, I’m glad that I’m not in my twenties any more. I am a lot more confident about what I want and need AND how to listen for someone else’s wants and needs.
I’m writing a new chapter in this life-book. It’s rough because it’s a rough draft. It’s the only draft. This is my one life and even though it feels like I’ve had to start over more times than anyone should have to, perhaps that is the greatest gift of all. There is no mediocrity in this book. Not a single page of it. There’s silliness and humor and loads of mistakes and lessons and laughter and tears and sweat and more sweat. I’m done with dulling my edges, with letting myself get run over by the struggle bus. I’m also not going to be that person that drives the bus over other people just to make it further down some imaginary road.
This is a painful place to be- it’s also a good place to be. It’s where change happens.