Holy Christ I am all the feels.
I’m not sure it’s the relief of 45 coming to a close, or the glass ceiling shattering, or the apres book release hangover, or my “vacation” weekend of #allthetrauma, but wow did all my emotions show up ready to party this morning!
I should really get better at scheduling the crisises (crisii?) of my life.
Nonetheless, the day is unfolding with a trillion creations begging for life. A novel idea about a woman battling her different selves depending on which mirror she steps into, an article about sorry v. aftercare, an article about what’s in a name, an article about announcing emotions when they show up v. needing permission to have emotions only after I’ve stabbed someone with them, a video/tiktok reimagining of Mr. Rodgers Neighborhood. I should birth them all, TBH.
While I let them all stew and reduce and I add a bit more thought for flavor, I’m captivated by an ongoing (and not new) realization that life is just fucking hard.
It’s an honest to god shit sandwich, some days I just figure out how to be delighted about the crispness of the bread, the artisanal flavor of the cheese, the perfection of the avocado; other days, all I can smell is the shit. Some days it’s even EASIER to laugh at someone else as I watch friends, family, and internet strangers dribble mustard on their shirts, oblivious to the fact that they’re doing their best to power through, swallow, and keep going, trying to eat their own shit sandwich one bite at a time. (Usually while muttering how dumb they are as I wipe my own mouth.)
I have literally no idea where this particular thought stew is going; I don’t really have a point.
Maybe that’s the point.
It’s okay to be messy right now.
It’s okay to have all the feels.
It’s okay to have no idea what comes next.
It’s okay to let things bubble up.
It’s okay to be still, to notice, to simply be.