Waking up to possibility

Lately I’ve been bombarded with Facebook “memories” from three years ago. Sometimes I question how that picture- that memory- was so long ago when in some respects it feels like yesterday. But the growth between then and now is measurable. Not just the physical changes in my kids, but the transformations in myself too…

like I’ve finally emerged from the Percy Jackson lotus casino.

The other day I was stressed and a friend was giving me shit. I semi-seriously said, be nice, I’m fragile.

The response was an emphatic “No you are not!”

Huh.
It actually took me a little off-guard.

Until recently, I didn’t know how to be strong without brandishing my sword and suit of armor.

Until recently, I didn’t really understand that strong without survival was an option.

Over the past week or so, a few people have reached out sharing ways that my words have encouraged, inspired, supported themselves or loved ones.

I’m not really sure how I feel about that.
Imposter syndrome?

Because I sure as hell don’t have life figured out.

Most days I’m making it up as I go-
sometimes minute by minute when day by day feels overwhelming.

In the past 18 months…
my dog died,
I got divorced,
I tore down literal walls,
I tore down emotional walls,
I emptied my house of irrelevant clutter,
I was blindsided by a covert narcissist,
I moved one kid out of state,
and then another.

I don’t acknowledge this with shame, but rather progress.

If someone would’ve laid that list out in front of me in early 2020- I would’ve laughed and replied there’s no fucking way I can get through all of that… sword or not.

But here we are.
Here I am.

No longer surviving.
Yet strangely stronger.

Everything is possible when nothing is predictable.

Trauma reshapes the brain…
but so does healing.

Newly rewired synapses that were under construction for far too long have
inspired hope,
ignited enthusiasm,
and awakened possibility.

Because these last 18 months have also delivered
-boundaries
-confidence
-authenticity
-abundance
-clarity
-purpose
-and passion

I’m not afraid of turbulence anymore.
I’m not afraid to say I c̵a̵n̵’̵t̵ won’t accept that response/neglect/dishonesty in my life anymore.

It’s ironic that intimacy I’ve never known:
late night conversations that extend into early morning,
a good night text,
a hand reaching for mine across the car console,
passion driven by honesty instead of manipulation-

aren’t thoughts that keep me up at night, actually I’m sleeping better than ever before.

Almost as if my body previously knew to be on alert instead of at rest.

I don’t have life figured out.

But I am learning how to stoke both the flames and my soul to maintain fire and flow- though one always requires more work than the other.

I’m getting better at recognizing internal warning signs that my fire is raging out of control, or my reservoir is drying-

or the reverse…

seemingly drowning in the incessant flood of words & thoughts in my head gasping for that spark, that flame, to ebb the water back to restorative waves.

Maybe it’s between my words that you fill in the gaps with your story- your possibilities-

maybe it’s because of my words you wonder what the fuck is wrong with her…

I’m Ok with both.

The words ease the weight on my shoulders and brain, leaving energy for the strength to look at possibility without brandishing a sword…
and curious enough to question what’s on the other side of the horizon.

I’ve never feared failure — success on the other hand has been obscure.

So instead I’m flipping the script of what could go wrong to what could go amazing?

I’m accepting bigger into my vernacular.

Because, I’m starting to discover, when you allow life’s unpredictability to seep into your dreams, you wake up with limitless possibility.