I think when we come into our truest selves, and we start respecting and loving our bodies the way that they are now in this moment— something shifts in the world around you. People who have not been in your best interest will fall away, and those that really love you deeply for exactly the person you are will show themselves more and more. If you’re hiding yourself, who are you doing it for? It’s certainly not in your own best interest to do so. How are the people that love you honestly and unconditionally going to find you if you do not shine your light, my love?
A Conversation With My Body (October 2019)
The other day I had a conversation with my body and she told me I am safe.
She told me I am at home and surrounded by love.
She told me that I am safe because I choose to listen to her after all these years. After all these generations.
She told me I am at home because I have put bloodsweatandtears into building her up.
She told me I am surrounded by love because I am love.
I cried hard. Cried hard for all the years I didn’t listen, for the years I broke her house down, for the years I was love to everyone else but her.
I cried and then let it go for that very last time because now I know with more certainty than ever before: she is free.
My Willow. [Thoughts on Growing Up] (July 2019)
When I was younger, these branches mothered me... my Willow. They swept me off my feet and carried me when I laughed. Carried me when I wept. I had an old CD player that I would bring up in the tree with me and I would play my first and favorite CD; a a gift from my mother. A classics of the 60’s. My favourite song was “The Weight” by The Band. I used to wonder why I liked that song so much, until I got older and was able to read the words with a different understanding. I saw that I’ve carried the emotional weight of so many people in my life, even since I was a baby. My friends. My family. I’ve mothered my parents and am still a child. And now they are going separate ways, starting lives on their own. And I find myself mothering them again.
I remember being a baby, my first memory looking up to see my fathers face and knowing that I came back for him. I remember all the times I felt at home. And all the times I never did. I remember the first time my mother screamed at me, to turn around and be so tender and so kind, how could I not forgive the pain? Hers and mine both. We’ve been through the same abuse, after all.
I remember when I went into treatment. When I saved my own life. And when treatment brought me back here. To my Willow. To the place I always was safe. And to the child in me that still sits in those branches and still needs the most love. I called a friend today. Asked a favor. Asked for true help, the first time in a long time.
I wish I could be in my tree again, but last year when I went— I realized she had grown so much I couldn’t even reach the branch that I used to pull myself up. I didn’t realize how much she’s grown. Maybe I didn’t realize that for myself either.