I am in tears as I sit here before the blank screen, trying to figure out how to say what I need to say.
This isn't right.
This. She of the Wild. This work.
It is good work, this I know. It is honest and needed and I believe in it. I will keep doing it for these reasons.
But it isn't quite right, not quite in alignment with The Thing that's inside me and wants to, needs to get out, be born, be in the world, be there for you if you choose it, if it chooses you.
And god, that is hard to admit, because I've worked so hard and so long and have tried to believe, have kept showing up, and for all that, for all my own personal soul-growth, it's still not right (dammit).
And then I realize -- it's not just She of the Wild that isn't yet fine-tuned. It's me, too. My life. My whole life.
For those of you who've been with my along the way, or part of it, you know that it's been a journey. I started a numb girl child in the body of a young woman, and through the initiation of an eating disorder and then the anguish and grieving of my daughter's stillbirth and then the necessary burning of my religiosity, I've grown. God, I've grown. I wouldn't have chosen that path if I'd been given a choice, but since I found my feet on that road, I'm grateful for what it's given me.
And to now come to this moment and realize that there is still so much work to be done, still so much growing? Well. It's frustrating. But mostly it's exhausting.
And I'm right in the thick of it. Or (oh god) maybe just the beginning. Regardless, I find myself in another dark night. And here I thought I was done with all that [insert dry divine laughter here].
The spiral of descent (or is it ascent? I can't even tell anymore) that I am currently winding around has to do, I think, with my own strength. How I've never really learned to stand on my own two feet in the world. How I don't believe I'm worth getting paid a living wage for whatever work I happen to be doing. How I never learned to be my own beloved, my own true love, my own twin flame/soul mate/best friend/truest companion.
I came to this realization yesterday. And, later in the day, still cradling this bleak epiphany tenderly, I happened to lock eyes with mySelf in a mirror, and nearly crumbled at the sensation of being met by my Self. Of being on my own side, perhaps for the first time ever. Of being happy, content, fulfilled alone.
I didn't think it was possible.
I didn't think I was capable.
But in that moment, I believed. In that moment, I met myself with love and power and it rocked me and changed my mind.
I don't know where this is going. I don't know what will become of me. And god knows I really don't fancy another descent into the dark night.
But I know that this is good work. I know this is needed. For She of the Wild, sure, but first mySelf.
Will you walk with me, will you wait with me?