I braved awkwardness in a crowded coffee shop for this one.
I’ve been in need of a sense of familiarity lately.
To know who I am and that I am loved.
There are new wounds that I’d rather just not deal with.
They’re pesky and inconvenient and feel like roadblocks to my happiness.
I don’t feel pretty.
I’m annoyed by the fact that I’ve found myself in a place where that seems to matter to me.
There are a lot of beautiful changes occurring both externally and internally.
I want to be somewhere familiar.
A place that people know me and where I can run into a few faces that can remind me of where I’ve been and what I hold inside of me.
People that see past the things that I create or the circumstances of my life.
The ones that look straight into the depths of me and call out what they see there.
I spoke with a co-worker this morning of upbringing.
Of how we stand in crowded rooms sometimes and feel like everyone knows that we’re different.
That we aren’t carrying the same privileges.
I awoke with a feeling of emotional whiplash.
The back and forth between happiness and fear.
It never pays to not deal with things.
Ignoring wounds has proven time and time again to be unhelpful.
All that I can do is feel them as intensely as I can and then patch them up with homemade band-aids formed from my newfound wisdom.