a cloud is an iron weight
a feather is a ton of bricks
when you're anchored down
to an immovable heaviness.
Crushing weight on the lungs makes every breath a bit harder, a bit sharper. Breathe, breathe, (I'm told), but this is no easy task - a stone tied to a leg pulls the body deeper, deeper under.
Life is so excruciatingly beautiful sometimes its almost too much to handle; yet still I must push aside the heavy black curtains to let the light in.
I run, I jump, I dance, I twirl in the madness of it all; my chains drag along making patterns in the sand.
The wheel creaks on; the grinding grinding grinding makes rust.
Sometimes I wonder
should I just stay inside
if bathing in the sunlight sears my flesh
and waltzing in the rain opens my wounds?
Alone alone you trudge on.
Warm, sweet shower licks your tired body and kisses you with steam / hot tears roll down the cheeks, hidden.
You must be strong
you must be strong
gain composure
for another round
but who is being strong for me?
a pit
in my stomach
a bird
locked away
wings clipped
no flying today
a thief in the night came, took everything you gave.
Alone alone you trudge on.
You must be strong
you must be strong
gain composure
for another round
As I've said before, I think that I've been put on this earth to feel and feel strongly, to carry burdens and help out with heavy loads because the universe knows I can hold them. It's taken a while to prove to myself that I am strong enough to hold them, but alas, that is only the first step. Once you've dealt with your own pain, figured out how to quiet your demons and live amongst the wolves, there is a whole other dimension to explore - that of other people's pain.
If I've been given this gift of extreme empathy, this iron strength and (sometimes detrimental) commitment to perseverance, shouldn't I open them up to other people? My life will be a continual process of learning how to wield my powers - I'm picturing Harry Potter & crew as wild-eyed babes figuring out those wands (levi-ooooh-sah), then years later battling the darkest of darkness, all the while still figuring out how to hone their particular skills (alohamora & all that shit). As I grow and expand, I feel it would be a waste of my time here to not at least try and ease others' aches.
I've been very careful on my journey to make sure I don't approach empathy as a selfish pursuit. I truly want to do my part so that someone else doesn't have to go through the same depths of pain unwarranted - and if they are already there, I want to serve as a guidemap. Not a guidebook, mind you - I don't have the answers, I don't know what's "right" or "wrong" or anything like that. But I do know the darkness, I know how to exist there, how to blindly feel out for the walls. I am good at having conversations about this darkness, which, in turn, brings a little bit of light.
What I've never really been confronted with until recently, however, is that sometimes "easing others' pain" is a lot more nuanced than it sounds. It's not as simple as being presented with Problem X, figuring out what you can do to help with Problem X, and then doing that. Sometimes "easing" means leaning into the hurt. Sometimes it means discovering that there is actually another issue entirely. And sometimes, "easing" means doing absolutely nothing.
I've become accustomed to sitting with uncertainty.
Not knowing how things will turn out, but pushing on anyway.
No one tells you how hard it is to sit with helplessness.
To watch someone crumple and completely lose their footing, and to just be a loving bystander.
That, I think, is where the beauty of humanity can really shine. In the unheroic, unflashy, usually-gone-unseen, act of true compassion. Just sitting, just being with another in the midst of their struggle. Acknowledging that you can't help end it, but you can sit quietly in the middle of it, refusing to let someone suffer alone.
Sometimes that is all you can do - and it is hard - but it is enough. I think. I hope.
* * *
I want to lay by your side and warm your cold back, I want to stare right into the eyes of your demon and refuse to look away. I want to hold your hand when it shakes, I want to keep talking even though you don't talk back, I want to love you even though you may not love me, I want to show you the sunset even though you just want night, I want to laugh deep belly laughs even though you can't join in, I want to shower you with smiles even though your pain makes me cry.
And I want to sit with you in silence if that's what you need. I want to just occupy space around you. I want to breathe the air of your devil and spit it back in his face. I will open all of the windows and let the rain pour in.
I will be your blanket, I will be your comfort, and I will be here. This to you I promise.
It's been proven that potentially the worst punishment for any human is extreme isolation. Isolation quite literally "warps the mind," and our physical chemistry can unravel if we are in situations of prolonged aloneness. According to a BBC article, "chronically lonely people have higher blood pressure, are more vulnerable to infection, and are also more likely to develop Alzheimer's disease and dementia." In addition, loneliness "interferes with a whole range of everyday functioning, such as sleep patterns, attention and logical and verbal reasoning." Social isolation also "unleashes an extreme immune response – a cascade of stress hormones and inflammation."
To be clear, this is not about the time-out that everyone needs periodically, the extra five minutes alone in the bathroom, the Sunday spent alone with Netflix, or even a general tendency to prefer introversion. No, I'm talking about a different kind of loneliness - a profound sense of being entirely disconnected from not only other people, but also from yourself. It's how I imagine it would feel to be an astronaut disconnected from the space station, sent hurling through black nothing-ness with no will, and no reason, to fight.
Disordered thoughts, which are a symptom of many major mental illnesses (depression, anxiety, eating disorders, bipolar disorders, to name a few) are like a silent killer. Our medical system tends to attack the physical symptoms of your ailment - weight loss/gain, poor metabolism, sleep problems, hair loss, poor circulation, brittle bones - with a vengeance. In fact, I think what I'm going to call "the war on drugs" is a shared experience of many people who have battled mental illness. A slew of pills thrown your way (some of which may work wonders - disclaimer: I am not here to hate on pharmaceutical treatments. Just to say that they themselves are not an end-all-be-all cure), when really your soul is trying desperately to find itself again, to gulp down any sign of familiarity with every water glass-head back-pill in-swallow.
You end up in this weird limbo, this stretching and expanding and then snapping back, curling up inside of yourself because you can't remember your worth. As my beautiful baby sister articulates in her experimental film "Year 16," your thoughts and dreams and fears can run rampant, but then you "can never remember how it ends." Stuck. Alone. Delaney's film brings tears to my eyes every *single* time I watch it (and I've watched it a lot..) because it is so raw in its simple yet profound articulation of the truth of this experience. Stuck inside the cage of your own mind, you wonder if you are just weaker than everyone, if maybe happiness isn't meant for you, if this is what life is just like.
I would highly recommend giving this vid a watch - it will make you feel feelings you didn't know you had. If not for that reason, because it also won Best Original Score at the All-American High School film fest (the instrumental score composed and performed by, you guessed it, Delaney McCallum. Oh, and also the vid helped snag my sis the title of a 2017 Young Arts Cinematic Finalist. Surround yourself with people who create honest beauty - I am a lucky one to call this artist my family.
Watch this baby in full-screen, volume all the way up, here.
In relation to eating disorders in particular, my friend-soulmate Riya is able to articulate the push and pull of social isolation extremely well. In an article for The Mighty, Riya wrote, "An eating disorder fills in for the interpersonal relationships a person lacks, but seriously needs, in their life." Riya told me that she thought people were out to get her when they would mention they were worried about her/her weight, so she would choose to avoid people altogether. And therein is the toxic cycle - we are in so much pain, steeped in so much self-loathing, and craving human connection. Yet our starving brain always gets the last word - and that is that people are out to get you, to take away this piece of you that is so "special." (Spoiler alert: it's not special. *understatement of the year*)
Here are some more very insightful words from my friend and fellow recovery warrior:
Those suffering from anorexia are usually often secretive and fixed to their rigid routines. It brought me an immense amount of stress and anxiety to even think about breaking my daily pattern. I would tell friends I would meet them at a party, only to cancel sometimes five minutes before, even though in my mind my decision to not go had been made long before. I was attached to my standard meals at my desk, where I would feel most productive. I would not be able to eat without Netflix open, playing Gilmore Girls in the background, giving the illusion of familiar friends in the room with me. Then I’d take a bite, and type my essay. It was an exasperating cycle of “I don’t want to be here. But I need to be here. I’m getting stuff done. I want to be here,” and “Why do I want people? When I’m with people I don’t want to be with them. When I’m alone, I want to be around people.” I just could not win. I could not make myself happy. I wasn’t allowed to be happy.
I recently came across a poem I wrote circa 2011 which I think encapsulates the feeling of loss that can come with isolation. My heart aches for the girl who penned these lines - a Madeline who felt robbed of her sense of excitement, her perpetual wonder, her adoration for every little thing on God's earth. This girl was left in bewilderment, wondering how she had blinked and suddenly lost herself - it's not a conscious decision, you don't just decide you hate yourself and then actively change your behavior. And to be quite honest, I still don't have the answers for how it happens and I doubt I ever will. All I know is that this sense of loss of an entire chunk of my life has haunted me for a very long time. I will never get those years back, those wandering, empty, lonely years.
a poem by me, c. 2011
I used to stand on the mountain
I used to look down at the sea.
I used to gaze at the islands,
the cozy little keys.
I used to stand on the rooftops,
hear the cars and the dogs
struggling to see the skyline
through the haze and the smog.
I used to float on the lake
I used to climb in the trees
I didn't listen to the questions,
they didn't apply to me.
Days would go by
and the rooster would crow
I used to capture the fireflies
and watch as they would glow.
Time passes and with it brings change,
oozing through the cracks in the door
and before you know it the snowman is gone
the chalk's not on the sidewalk anymore.
I used to light all the candles,
I used to lay in the grass,
I used to name the color of the sky
and count all the clouds as they passed.
I used to pick flowers for Mama
just because they were there and so was she
I used to laugh at my teachers' jokes
and have my dolls over for tea.
I used to take things for granted
I never thought that I might forget
about the secret club in the bushes
or the bird that I had as a pet.
I used to stand on the cliff,
not knowing that eventually I'd fall
I used to keep all the bottle caps;
Now I've lost them all.
I used to wonder what I'd look like
after the next school year passed
I would never buy my ice cream first
just to make it last.
Do you think you may need to speak to a professional, but are struggling to find the time and the right person? Consider online therapy. Please see https://www.betterhelp.com/ for more information <3
If this post resonated with you, or touched you in any way, please consider donating to my Project Heal campaign for National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Help me fund a treatment grant for someone in need - a floating astronaut, an empty shell, a lonely, wide-eyed young girl who lost her youth to her demons. Any donation would be so much appreciated <3 Find my fundraising team here: https://www.classy.org/fundraiser/913265 xx mm
And even through the near decade long journey I have been on, even after the times I have ripped the Band-Aid off and exposed my wounds to the world, even after the musings I have shared with the pubic via this platform, I am still scared. Scared to share, scared to talk. To have my journey, my honesty and my strength and my conviction, used against me. But the one thing I will never waver on is my commitment to not only helping myself heal, but also to providing the same kind of nurturing platform to others. My heart aches for the suffering souls of the world. Upon taking time to really think about how I could possibly help, I figured where my hands and my heart could be of most effective, immediate use is in a cause near and dear to my heart. This week (February 26-March 4, 2017) is NEDA Week, and even though I am still absolutely terrified to be so vocal on the subject, I know that the help I can give and the support I receive makes it more than worth it. I have created a project that you will see unfold here this week - a project that aims to bring together a group of people who have things to say, stories to tell, and friends to support and highlight. Throughout my journey, I have found the concept of community and connection to be more and more important. As I learn and grow and challenge my vulnerability by reaching out to others, I find strength and confidence in my core beliefs. I have made it my mission to help others along their own journey, to speak for them when their voice is faltering, and to do everything I can to help others open the road to their own recovery. On that note, I have started a fundraising group for Project Heal's NEDA Week campaign. Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of all mental illnesses, and about 90% of all Americans clinically diagnosed with an eating disorder will never receive treatment. However, recovery is possible - it just happens to be widely expensive and out of reach for most Americans. From Project Heal's site: "Contrary to the widely circulated myth that full recovery is impossible, appropriate treatment can make life without an eating disorder truly a reality. Treatment provides tools to fight back against eating disorders by developing self-awareness, new healthy habits, and alternative behaviors for coping." If you feel so inclined, I would really appreciate any kind of donation you are able to give to my fundraising team. Help me provide others with the key to unlocking their own strength and will to live here. Look out for stories to come this week, highlighting both the unimaginable depths of darkness encountered in this journey as well as the incredible tenacity & light to be found on the other side.
I've been struggling for a long time to form some kind of coherent reflection on everything that 2016 has been. The trouble is that this January will represent for me not only the end of one year, but the end of almost a decade long fight, the end of nearly five years in a very grueling environment, and many new beginnings in new locations. It is so much all at once that it is hard to hone in on just any one feeling - they are all bursting to be felt, but instead end up mixing all together into one giant vortex of emotion so strong that I would rather just turn off and not feel. Am I proud? Am I sad? Am I happy? Am I scared? Hopeful? Excited? Scared? Stressed? Anxious? Yes and no and everything in between.
The world kind of feels a bit upside down at the moment, in more ways than one. Yet I meditate on the Rumi quote that tells us, "Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one that is to come?"
I gravitate to the line "Let life live through you." How do we do that? This past year has made me really cognizant of time. The passing of it, the speed of it, the unpredictability of it. We never will know when ours is up. Also, I am very tired of the "I don't have enough time" line. There is no such thing as "enough" time. There is just time. And we all have the exact same amount. It's all about how you choose to allocate it. The way you choose to divvy up your time speaks volumes about your character - it illuminates the truth way better than any other actions and certainly better than words. By giving one thing more time than another, or more focus or energy, you are consciously making the choice to give that one thing precedence. It may not be a case of wrong or right, but it is a strong statement nonetheless. In 2016 I urge myself and others to stop using time as an excuse and to start better articulating our priorities - bring it all up to the surface, really ask yourself why when you begin to say "I don't have enough time." What is it that you are giving the most importance? Is it really the most important to you? The way we focus our time is the way we focus our life.
It's hard not to feel really disheartened by the world, where it seems that most people have actively chosen that what is most important to them is their own comfort regardless of the well-being of others, regardless of the hate, bigotry, and ignorance that comes with that stagnant comfort. Sometimes I feel like I'm grasping desperately for something to give me strength, for some kind of bandage for my gaping wounds. If there's one thing I've learned, it is that the saving has to come from within. No one gives me bandages; I must create them on my own. In a recent She Reads Truthpost, writer Raechel Myers gave some advice that resonated with me:
"Look for the helpers."
Myers said, "It was Mr. Rogers who shared this insight with us -- advice his own mother gave him when he would see scary things happening as a child. 'You will always find people who are helping.'"
In the midst of all this scariness, we must look to the ones who are reaching towards those who are hurting. There are always those choosing to spend their time focused on lifting others up. In my own time of immense change, I want to allocate my precious time towards those who aim to help, to lift up, to bring energy and lightness and active consideration. I also aim to be a helper myself - I want to learn from my time in the valley so that I can better recognize the signs of someone else headed there themselves.
Change brings with it instability, and I think that's part of the reason why it is so threatening. The future is foggy, the ground isn't sturdy, yet we are being asked to keep blindly walking forward. I must admit, there have been times recently when I wasn't sure whether I wanted to keep trying to walk. And I finally realized it was okay to give myself that. I let myself hurt. Somedays you don't have to fight - it is alright to pause, take off your armor for a bit, and curl up to hold yourself together. Meditate on your pain; grieve the loss of the familiar. And once you've filled your cup back up, cling to your strength and the inner stability that can never be affected by change.
One thing that has really opened up my eyes this year is a widening sense of my own agency. I have an innate power within me to be content, to facilitate my own emotional states within myself. And by being in control of how I handle a situation, I in turn will allow others the space to do this for themselves. Your kindness gives others the energy to be kind as well. As Sheena Mannina of Raw Talk with Sheena says, if we expect when we meet someone else that we are going to see that same essence of self, of love, of depth, then we are going to manifest those things in the other person. We must approach a situation or another person with love and depth, no matter how different it/they may seem, in order to fully immerse ourselves in what that situation or person is going to teach us. What you believe is what you are going to perpetuate.
All I can do is try to be the warmth that has become so absent in this world. We have enough judgment, enough shame, enough hatred - too much. It's the easiest thing I can do to just be kind, to give people the benefit of the doubt, to not be harsh with my words and to lift up anyone I can with light and strength and honesty. In no way do I think I will be able to affect everyone on this planet, but if I have been given a kind heart, an intelligent mind, and a caring soul, it is the least I can do to use them and spread them around, especially during this time of so much hurt.
At the same time, one of my goals for the new year will be making sure that I reflect some of this kindness back onto myself. I need to work on nourishing my sturdy roots with encouraging words and messages of courage and durability. Change is a lot - it is a time when we see the true colors of those around us, when those in our circle who truly care to hang on during this whirlwind rise to the top, and those who allocate their energy elsewhere slip off. Change can hurt, but we cannot be afraid of hurting. Change is a necessary part of life, and the way it makes us feel all comes from the mindset we approach it with.
All of this I try to keep in mind in the midst of a universe that seems to be becoming more unstable with every turn. We'll see how it goes...I am only a work in progress. But the key is that I am moving; I am progressing; I am trying; I am pushing against the hurt and choosing to grasp onto the healing. I hope you will join me.
Fall has always been my favorite season – before PSLs, before Uggs (*cringe*), before leggings as pants and before I bought my yellow peacoat. I love the crisp air, the crackling bonfires I associate with home and family. I long for the atmosphere to sharpen so I can lie on the dock in my backyard and see light-years ahead into the future, galaxies crystalizing before my eyes.
Only recently, however, have I made the connection that maybe I also am attracted to fall because it is a season of change and growth, perhaps a time of renewed hardship and the overcoming of it. I am drawn towards a challenge like a moth to the flame. I am a peace-seeker, but if I’m not able to stretch and sprout and ripen and push back and burst forth, my spirit becomes dull. Where then, is the balance?
Last Friday I marveled at the Harvest Moon. This particular supermoon was unique because it was accompanied by a faint lunar eclipse, a combined event that won't happen again until 2024. Looking to the sky always shakes me – all of my worldly problems seem so infinitesimally small when face to face with a vastness so deep and dark and mysteriously beautiful. I saw the huge red moon hanging so low in the sky, in between two Philadelphia skyscrapers, and I couldn’t help but lose myself in the mystifying abundance of the blood red moon that is so much larger than my existence.
The Harvest Moon is the full moon that is seen nearest to the time of the autumnal equinox. The word “equinox” comes from Latin and means “equal night” – on this day, we experience just as much darkness as we do light. The orange color of the moon is due to its closeness to the horizon. It’s closeness to the horizon.Here we are, simultaneously moving into a season of more darkness yet also closer to the line where the Earth and the sky meet.
I find this so profoundly beautiful, and such a wonderful illustration of human hardship. The ups and downs are inevitable, much like the cycling of the seasons, but the positioning of your mindset is the one thing that can carry you through the night because of the giddy promise of the day.
I am a full moon rising. In the presence of dusk, the disappearing sun, I know that I love the light too much to stay in gloomy decline forever. It’s not as simple as just choosing to live in night or day. Rather, I vow to glow from the depths of my being even in the midst of a clouded midnight, much like the Harvest Moon with her belly so full of shine and rooted with warmth.
I want a beacon to shine through my weaknesses. Rather than disguise or hide them behind a blinding, polished luminescence, I want to be lit up through the cracks in my spirit, I want to work hard every day in the midst of my burning scars. To struggle is not to fail – no, defeat resides in implosion in the face of hardship, in backing down from trial instead of patiently, firmly staring down your demons. I am not satisfied with being complacent in misery. We are all capable of growth, however incremental it may be. Let us not forget that the moon shines because its surface reflects the light of the sun. In my Autumn, in the battles of my Winter, I hope I have stored enough sunbeams inside of my heart to let them glow for me when I’d really rather wallow in the fog.
The Harvest Moon reminds me that I am here, in the midst of it all. The dark will be coming earlier, but so will the moon. You are never without the light, if you remember to look for it. The red moon is unshakable in her presence – the world around may have grown dim, but there she is, stretching towards the horizon.
And so I will reach, ever so slightly further, towards the sun whose warmth pulls me closer and even towards the hidden moon, a subtle shine that seems evasive but is an eternal light in the darkness. Armed with strength of will and clarity of purpose, I hope my moonlit nights will provide steadfast radiance and deepening incandescence for all of my people out there looking to the stars. I will search for the light, so help me, for all of my days – I know it is there, seen or unseen, and that is enough to fill my heart with hope.
And here we are again, another year later, me reflecting on the wonder that is my miniscule existence on such a vast, diverse planet that is still so. small. when you look up at the stars. Seriously though, I used to associate birthdays with making decisions and people asking me “what I wanted” and me never having an answer--from a very young age, I didn’t understand why I needed to want something? I was so content, just me in my own vast world that only required my imagination and my openness to experience. I realize this is a privileged stance, to not be aware of any pressing need, but I think it is so noteworthy to remember how I felt when presented with the culture’s norms for the first time. Why was it so weird that I didn’t want to sit down and write a list of things that I wanted? What I really loved about birthdays and what I looked forward to every year was my whole family gathering around our huge, shiny oak table in the dining room that we only used on special occasions (and for fort-making). I liked how I got to sit in the velvet Queen chair at the head of the table, with my puppy in my lap, and spend the evening in fits of laughter with my siblings. I liked how my Noni came over to spend the evening with us, and I’d listen to her lovely Spanish lilt tell me about that hot Alabama summer when I was born while my dad made her a cup of the darkest espresso to go with her slice of cake. Every year since my parents built their dream home with that shiny oak table, we have repeated this ritual, and although I’m not at home-home on my exact birth date this year, I know that soon I will be. And my family will gather and celebrate this year that I have been given.
My 21st year has been incredibly uplifting, bringing a lightness and an agency to my young adult life that I had yet to experience. I am so humbled every day that I am on this earth - I am a learner, a seeker, a pursuer of the flames. Not with the aim to passively feel the heat but rather to create the spark. One of my recent goals has been to just start doing the things that roll through my list-obsessed brain throughout the day. Not the daily to-do list that requires checking off “send this email, buy avocados, pack that tupperware, Clorox wipe my counter” (yeah, Clorox wipes, calm down, I’m not tryna full-blown adult yet). I’m more focused on acting on my heart-felt impulses--those urges that come from my true self deep down, like that voice that tells me I’d really like to walk across the street to admire that person’s garden. That inkling to go on a walk with no destination. That thought that maybe I should message that person and tell them how much I appreciate their friendship. Stuff like that - I’ve just been doing them. And let me tell you, it feels good. And it helps me feel like an active contributor to the world, like I’m making moves and shifting time and having an impact just by walking on the other side of the street (some real Pay It Forward, everything-has-a-connection type ish). I think it is all about living less out of habit and more out of intent.
This year has brought me to another side of the world, quite literally. I’ve been confronted with my ignorance head-on, forced to grapple with my privilege and the overwhelming need out there. I want to see and to help and to use the leg-up I was born with to booster those that weren’t. As I learn my strengths, and come to accept my weaknesses, I am motivated to sharpen my abilities even further. At this point in my life, if there is one thing I know I want for sure, it is that I want to be able to open my arms and say to the world: Here is what I have to give. It is the very best of me - my true self, without compromise, without guilt. How can I help? And in addition, I desire to know when to be quiet and just listen, to learn and be humbled and question my existing beliefs.
My heart has been changed by my experiences abroad. I have thought deeply about what exactly it was that triggered a change, what about my time in another country has so profoundly shifted not only my worldview, but also my self-concept. And I don’t think it was actually any one big thing - I must have been in the right position and right time in my life to accept whatever riches this new life experience had to offer, and I also won’t deny the magic I have found in a city that speaks to me on so many different levels.
My twenty-first year was one that grounded me in a world so much bigger than my restrictive mind. It has opened me up to light and given me a mirror to shine this light on others. I want to have a generous spirit, I want to be a conduit of joy. I would like my energy to be receptive to all that others have to teach and give me. I don’t want to view myself as an end-all-be-all, an earthly being focused solely on this body here and now. I found so much inspiration in a mantra I heard repeated in a talk by Nathalie Croix, yoga & meditation master. She says one of her favorite teachers always told her, “You are not the water, you are the faucet.” It gives me much more purpose and drive to think of myself merely as another cog in a much bigger wheel, where I move and connect with others and my purpose is found in the push and pull.
But more than anything, I am just so damn grateful for another birthday. I recently listened to a podcast where Sheena Mannina of Raw Republic highlighted the merits of “expressing gratitude and appreciation for this existence that you’ve been given.” How simply beautiful. So much of life nowadays seems to be centered around a “winning” mentality, but Lord let me tell you, I am just happy to be playing the game. We aren’t ever promised even another day on this planet, so to have a marker reminding you that you have reached another year? Yeah, that’s something I’m gonna get excited about. Not the cake or the candles or the “all-about-me” (which are all good, fun things to celebrate) - I get more hyped up thinking about a time when I honestly couldn’t envision myself past 18, when life seemed more like a shadowy possibility that I wasn’t 100% sure I was on board with, and comparing that to now: a young woman with ambition, with a vision I can’t define but I know is there. And the feeling that that is enough. Creating this reality is my intention.
I hope you find me here at 23, authentic and honest in my ups and my downs, having learned even an increment more about how to serve my higher purpose while also bringing joy. And for now, I’m gonna go out and hold hands and smile and laugh too much and have resting serious face and wear sneakers with everything and climb trees to see the world. Because that’s just what I do.
