I cannot wait to find my voice and my vision again. It’s taking all of my effort to just physically exist, not doing anything but the basics, for most of this year. And I had to learn to be okay with that. To know that I am a beautiful human, even if I’m struggling to just do day to day life currently. My brain feels sluggish, like it’s hibernating, while protecting myself from the pain I’m constantly in. And the fear I am feeling during this health crisis I am in. Everything is dull and in a fog.

I just cannot wait to be and feel vibrant again. I just need to keep my nose above water, at the very least.

Aging

Today, I was once again told by someone that they thought I was in my teens. And in this society, that is viewed as a compliment. But to me, it is felt as a sting. A disregard to the years of growth I have lived through, the wisdom I have fought for. The lessons I have learned and unlearned.

When so many, through accident or choice, do not live as long or long past my age, I am glad, and feel blessed to still be here, fighting for a better world, making connections where I can, hopefully leaving people knowing how deeply I love them.

I am not ashamed to be given the privilege of growing older. Perhaps many feel a pang of dread of getting older because of the immense pressure to perform productivity, to “make something” of their life, to be remembered long term. Striving for something most will not achieve. I don’t know. But to me, aging is simply a gift. More time to find more love between other humans and with the world around me.

I want to be seen as someone who has lived and grown and continues to grow. Someone who has overcome caring so goddamn much about and wasting too much mental energy over what this physical body looks like and instead embraces it. Uses it and my ever expansive mind to reach out into the world and connect. My wrinkles are beautiful. Signs of listening and reacting and feeling everything so deeply. My soft belly from carrying life within me. My grey hairs, sparkling in the sun. These things only make me more beautiful and just like my brain, my outside is ever changing and I hope I continue to give every iteration the deep reverence it deserves.

I am carrying so much emotional labor for those around me and I do it gladly. I also would be dishonest if I didn’t admit how hard it has been. Feeling so much weight of the world, trying to make sure those around me are getting what they need, trying to come to terms with the feeling of not doing enough or being present enough to have been able to keep Natasha from taking her own life.

It’s a lot. And I do not begrudge any of my friends for needing space held for them. Again, I gladly do it, I love them dearly. I just need to find ways to be present with people that allow me to be seen as a human also needing to connect with others in ways that are purely for fun and for the pleasurable side of existence.

I’ve been nursing a deep state of burn out for a couple years now and I don’t know if I continue the way I am, if I will ever heal from that state.

For now, I’ll find a video game to immerse myself in to help hide away from the deep loneliness I am feeling. It’s not a perfect coping mechanism but it helps.

A love letter to myself - For knowing who I am - And loving my whole self - I am a survivor - And now I am a thriving, glorious, energetic ball of love - And take no fuckery.

I will not chalk my live up to merely existing - My life is for exploration - For art - For being art - Creating art - Making love - And deep connection.

I will no longer take half full friendships - And anything I cannot sink my entire self into.

A love letter to myself - For I am love.

Three years

I don’t know why it happened, perhaps the endless sadness that lives in my bones, perhaps connections that never truly were made,

Thinking back to friendships I thought I was making,

Being confused at the way they spoke to me but the silence that swiftly followed.

The world shattered, like some sugar glass, knocked off the counter,

And most just swept me up in that mess and tossed me in the garbage, and wiped their hands clean of my existence.

I don’t know why it happened.

But I’m left here, searching the dark, for the way out.

A million little deaths

I wrote this on Instagram nearly a year ago and as the third anniversary of Natasha‘s death rapidly approaches, this still rings very true.

-Tomorrow marks two years since Natasha left this realm. And there’s been this drawing going around about how grief doesn’t get smaller, you just grow around it. I hold onto that image in my head for hope because over the last two years it has only felt as if the grief has stayed the same large lump in my chest and I have shrunk around it. I keep saying I don’t know how to connect with people to form or maintain friendships anymore but the more I sit with that sentiment the more I realize that it’s not that I don’t know how, it’s that the ways in which I do so now have shifted dramatically. And that shift has left me at odds with how society views the forming of friendships and the types of bonds that “should” look like.

I know it’s hard to sit with me with my pain, I know it well because I sit with it every day. And it’s a strange place to be, navigating this during a time when most people are tapped out entirely and being able to hold space for people in the ways they cannot show up for others but simultaneously be so hurt and angry at the silence and expectation to hold it all nearly alone.

All the major deaths in my life have come after a culmination of a million little deaths since we made the decision to move to Vermont. It’s been a long and tiring 5 years. I sobbed in the car while driving this morning, like I did the night I found out that Natasha was gone. And the tears keep coming, endlessly.

I am so weary.

And I only crave to have a friend come and hold my hand and let me know I am still worthy of friendship and to sit with me in my grief.

Tomorrow is a reminder of the friendship that finally felt so full and safe and connected and the failure I feel as a friend as she slipped quietly from my life.-

Nov. 22, 2021