Blooming, Jan. 20

Dear Diary,

Happy Friday!

Holy smokes. I am finding my footing.

Finding footing, for me, doesn't mean being grounded. It means I can run around and chase my tail, it means I can jump, it means I can dance, it means I can go.

Just go.

This fall, I was having coffee with a friend. And we were talking about things. And they gave me the most beautiful compliment.

They called me resilient.

I've been thinking a lot about it because I have never thought of myself that way. Same when someone tells me I'm brave or courageous. Or that I light up a room when I enter it.

I have pushed compliments away in the past because I was scared of the expectations they create. In my internal emotional system, it's like a responsibility to shoulder. There was also a feeling that I was not worth it and did not deserve to feel good about myself.

When I woke up today, I felt ready to go. I was excited to take each moment with radical love to find grace and joy. Driven by my anxiety rooted in love, I did not imagine what could go wrong. Instead, I imagined getting up and going.

I remember the days when I couldn't get going. I didn't have my footing. The burdens I carried, real and imaginary, dragged me down. I turned to the bottle and almost drowned.

Hungover or not, just getting out of bed was brutal.

How do you face the day when you can't pull yourself out of bed, let alone make it?

Life is a process, and sometimes it is just survival. In those moments, it is so important to show up for yourself. Whatever it means at that moment.

You gotta be there for you.

Showing up for yourself creates space. I have been gifted the knowledge that eventually, "you" has the potential to become "us" because the space you create mixes with other spaces. The you and us eventually become "yous."

Then "yous" show up together, and "yous" show up for each other.

These are moments to enjoy dynamic environments built on joy, creativity, love, and support.

But, sometimes the "yous" don't work out. In those moments, surviving is showing up.

But, sometimes, you show up jumping and somehow tweak your shoulder in the air.

Sometimes it is climbing up.

Sometimes you hang upside down.

Sometimes showing up is just staying in bed 'cause the world is too bright.

Sometimes you're alone.

Sometimes you can find people.

Sometimes you're alone with people.

Sometimes showing up is a floofy, numbing, light, warm moment.

Sometimes you describe this strange moment to a friend, and sometimes that friend says something revolutionary.

They say something like: "it sounds like you were comfortable!"

Sometimes showing up means sitting with the knowledge that you've waited thirty-five years to feel this feeling you didn't know existed.

And then you show up to sit with a mix of heartbreak and gratitude.

The point is not to say things get better, but life transitions. And there is room to hope in transition.

Survival needs hope, and hope needs you to show up.

Life is love.

Life is hope.

Life is fleet and flight.

Life is pretty cool.

More to come, promise