Sometimes It’s Messy

Sometimes It’s Messy

My favorite spot in the world. Here. Boston, you’re my heart and home. PS: rain!

Recently I’ve felt anything but together. My life has seemed a little too much like it’s spiraling out of control and I’m frequently feeling overwhelmed and overtired. Oh but yesterday was such a good day. Oh it was one of those days I dreamed about. It was bursting with beauty and new members of my tribe and smiles and laughter alone in my room because my heart felt settled. You know that feeling? After a big storm, when the world seems to quiet down. When everything is still glistening. When there’s such a distinct smell in the air it’s almost tangible? That was my yesterday. Right after a three-day shit storm.

WOMEN. EXPECTATIONS. LOVE. ANXIETY. Those were my all-cap friends for a few days and boy did it suck suck suck. Like really suck. It made me appreciate all the circumstances of a day when I felt like I could just show up and be taken care of. I fed myself and loved myself and asked for what I wanted. I respected others and loved others and listened to others. I detached from the stories I told myself for a few days. I let the day take me where it wanted to and needed to. I’m starting The 100 Day Project (#100dayproject), so I’m committing to making art for the next 100 days. I’m trying to show up in this space even if it seems a little haphazard and word vomit like. I’m still sober. I think we can so easily complicate the things that can offer us the most ease and comfort if we let them. I think honesty sometimes feels like an act of defeat, or departure, or devastation or all three.

Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it just fucking rains over and over and over again. But I’m no longer afraid of rain, in fact it’s a reminder of a friend who lives far away so in some ways I lived through a three day hug. I stayed stubborn and sad, but I never felt alone. That’s a big thing. That’s huge. I always felt like I was alone, other than, a woman of the bathroom floor who couldn’t get up. But, right now I feel like I’ve always had the people, my people, they just didn’t start to show themselves until we could both be ready. Until I could start to trust that maybe the universe does have my back. That maybe I don’t have any control.

Relinquishing control is a difficult task for a control freak, but I think it’s the last first step. It’s the thing holding me back from walking all the way off the cliff and free falling. I want all the freedom that comes from giving up my will, but in typical me fashion I want to control what that looks like. I’m a work in progress just like my art. But, I create nonetheless, everyday, in the hopes that after a rainstorm, I might find myself, soaked, but not scarred.