Hey you. It’s been a while.
I want to say that I’ve been on a brilliant adventure, travelling the galaxy with nothing but a towel, open heart and big dreams. I want to say that I’ve been having the time of my life. That the love and laughter have been flowing freely, and unencumbered joy has been radiating out, cascading over both myself and those I’m lucky to meet in this journey.
But then I wake up. I turn on the radio, crank up the news. I switch on my phone, tap to open an app. I open my door and ready myself to listen to the stories.
Twitter, the amphitheatre for the world’s wrongs, brings me heartache. Instagram, the escapism and glossy highlights from a reality that sometimes is much less so. Then there is the news media. Oh, those delightful portals to fear.
I’ve taken a break. Just as many write about doing these days. Dialling down their content intake because their system is overloaded and craving sanctuary. There is a reason why well-being is the mantra of the moment. Self-love, and cutting down the negatives. Positive vibes, please. Live true to you.
My internal soundtrack has been gentle tears that have wrapped around confusion. Bright lights and deer eyes. There has been love and some laughter, of course. Lightness from the ones whose path has connected to mine. But it’s been over a year since I stopped truly writing for myself. Stopped making for the sheer hell of it. Stopped listening to that little voice within that sought hope, and carved beauty within the pockets it found. The one that believes in the goodness of others and tries to extend a hand warmly outward, hopeful we might both be felt.
In this weird landscape of continual fear media, unfettered escapism and a positive vibes only crew, I am tentative to let my quiet voice ever speak again. Because to be true to me, right now, is to admit that I haven’t had the strength to show up. To live and exist fully, let alone share much online. I haven’t found the capacity to write about and make things as frivolous seeming as frocks when every day I’m waking up and readying myself for more stories.
Overloaded and craving sanctuary, I have been turning down the broadcasts and switching off the apps. The yoga and gardening and simplifying and trying to shift into a slower day-to-day have helped. But in quieting everything down, I realise that I may have also shut down the one place that tried so hard to ignite before. The place seeking hope and carving beauty in the pockets it found.
So, here’s the thing. I want to feel ready again. I want to travel the galaxy with nothing but a towel, an open heart and big fucking dreams. I want to shake off my hesitations and let the joy cascade over me as it once did when the writing flowed and the designs danced. I want to remember the good part of sharing stuff online. When we opened with our questions and let ourselves learn from each other’s stories – without the need to draw in a never-ending crowd by fear, escape or an unrealistic positivity bias.
Let’s talk about wholeness. Yin and yang. Living true in the midst of heartache, confusion and fear. Living true with the laughter and lightness too, because hope and beauty still need to be carved. I want to be here with my questions and learn the lessons from all parts of life’s journey. Sometimes, I feel as if I have forgotten my voice still, but here we are. Diving deep into that messy, uncertain place from which we all sometimes begin.