It’s difficult for me to write right now. It hurts me to try. My mind is in some kind of transition. Whatever part of me I carry inside my bones and blood is alive and compelling me to move, to live, to jump.

And I will. I don’t think I could stop myself even if I wanted to. Which I don’t.

My life right now is a fucked up turmoil of joy and sorrow. I am in mourning and celebration at the same time.

There are fractions of seconds where I tell myself to go back where it’s safe. Return to the certain. Follow the plan.

My spine won’t even allow my head to turn that way. My heart lurches forward in some mad scramble as it falls to pieces while it’s healing. The marrow in my bones demands from me whatever comes next.

Whatever that may be.

My hand reaches out to touch things I’ve never experienced. My heart demands more.


This is where I am. No one may understand this, and it really doesn’t matter. I am alone in this and I comprehend that completely. I have plenty of fear and doubt, but I’ve come to a point where the only thing that matters to me is what I have to do next. What I need to do next. What I will do.

I am alone. Surrounded by those who love me who are finally allowed to reach me. Supported by those who would do anything for me. I love them. Appreciate them.

But I am alone. As we all are. But I choose to step out, be brave, love fiercely.

I’ve learned a little jab to the ego now and then is a good thing. I’ve had plenty over the past few months, and while it’s never pleasant, there’s always something to use to move forward. And I am going forward. I am jumping in. I will take that flight, learn that dance/language/recipe. I will do it all.

Because I can.

I will fly  to California. I’ll visit Hawaii, vacation in the Dominican, take the train to Chicago, stay at home and cook for my best friends and family. I will do it all.

I’ll take naps when I feel like it. Sometimes the highlight of my day is holding my pups as they lay across my lap in blissful abandon.

When I’m stressed, I’ve learned to chop the hell out of everything in my fridge and make something awesome with what I’ve learned.

It’s difficult for me to write. It hurts me to do so. That’s why I have.



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