I am sitting on my little bed in my slanted room, shaking, because as before, the darkness has closed in on me and I don't know where hope will come from, if at all.
I have been scraping by on the kindness of friends, the income from art sales and the occasional odd job, but the money is running out and I am trying to find the thread of hope in this misery sweater. I wear it on days hot and cold. It reminds with a bristle and scratch that hustle is paramount.
I have tried to conceal my freak from my partner, who has been patient with my poverty and supportive as he can be, but I am on the edge of collapse due to nerves and the belief that I need to appear to be just fine, thank you very much. This false wall of strength bears down and my knees ache beneath it.
I am a mess once again, because I have forgotten about the light that will be blowing through my tiny room at any moment, casting out the dark and radiating buoyant goodness. I have been through a million darknesses. I have felt this claustrophobic night before the burst. But it is so hard to grasp that memory when the walls of your room scream in desperation and the soles of your feet cannot stand the floor.
When the light comes in, I remember in the warmth that it was waiting for me to believe it. It was waiting for my resilient expectation, for me to let go of that old desperation and have faith. But faith was never learned in this body, and it is a hard lesson in the ink.
I hope in the glow and calm that I will remember next time. I will remember that life is in the cracks and the corners waiting for me to notice. That the memory of me will bring the light back. The me that is good and light and true and even if she is poor and desperate, there is a light in her that shines brightly. There is a light in her that connects her to everyone and everything, and if she remembers that connection, the dark has no power, except to maybe remind her of that light.
All I need to do is exhale, and notice that in order to receive, I must first let go.
I have shifted into this other mode of writing for good, I think...so if you are hoping for the other, I might not do that again for a while. This form is feeling more helpful to me in terms of expression and clarity. Let me know what you think if you have the time and the inclination. I would truly appreciate it.
Be a part of A Love Rebellion. Spread love, hope and compassion.
Only the highlights from my creative life. Just click on the image.
My work is supported by my readers. If you feel like you get something out of this every week, and you feel you are able, a $3 to $15 monthly subscription will help me bring you all the ass-kicking content possible. Thanks so much for your support.