Words swarm around inside me and for years I have slowly let them out.
I hold back, completely mute when I'm in the greatest pain.
When I've been dark and broody, all the words are still there.
But I cannot find the strength to share them.
My fears override everything and I lean on distraction to keep me from this place.
I read through my past in these posts and feel each pause like the depression that is was.
Always light and connection as I emerge.
My sharing has unfolded recently as a responsibility.
Who benefits from words unspoken, unwritten?
Evelyn asked me when I'd begin writing my book and I promised her "Tuesday."
Today is that Tuesday, that day I press my fingers to the keys and spill the past, curate the future, and probably make a big ole mess for some editor to clean up.
Multiple times a day I catch myself making judgments and being caught up in my own head.
Separating myself from others and falling short of my highest self.
Life happens, deadlines, things to learn, to-do lists, etc. and it pulls me.
I run from something I desire, a pattern that I work on as often as mindfulness.
I want to know you, I want to slow down and understand you.
Though I'll undoubtedly continue to self-criticize and question why anyone would care to read what I'm writing, I will write.
I'll give you the marred and ashen, the bright and exuberant, and pray that it lands where it is needed.
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