If I had a penny for every time I've started a new diary, a new blog, restarted and old blog... I haven't kept track but I know it would be at least enough to buy me the backpack I need to take on my travels. Still, I keep starting fresh, again. And that's fine isn't it? That's the point, really. That we keep going, boats beating tirelessly against the waves and all that. This time though I think it's going to stick.
I've done the work recently, spent two years in therapy, found myself, got my feet comfortably beneath me. Even as I count down the weeks (five) until I fly away from home, uprooting myself again, this is the most I've ever known myself. Known I can stick with it because I truly want to. It's for me, not for an audience although, of course, I hope one of those will arrive.
It's bizarre how you can spend years, decades, of your life with yourself and then finally explore the depths and see what's underneath the rocks, hidden in nooks and crannies, and realise that actually you didn't know yourself at all. Or maybe you didn't trust yourself. Definitely didn't love yourself. That's a big thing to admit, put out there for the world to know. But I think it's important that we admit to it, that we are honest about our fragility. And I can do that now because it's no longer true. Like I said, I've done the work. I love myself.
I love what I can do, the way I have with words. I love my eye for iPhone camera pictures, how I can remember directions after one drive. I love the people I have around me, the family I've built for myself. I love that I am leaving, always facing the next challenge.
It's not in our nature -- or at least, it's beaten out of us perhaps... Either way, it's not in our nature to be so bold about these things. Declare what we love about ourselves. Face the accusation of arrogance and big-headed-ness. But, again, I think it's important that we do just that. List what we love about ourselves, those things that we've squirrelled away that make up our cores. I'm not a fan of the complete denial of finding validation in others in favour of total self-love (it's unrealistic and also isolating) but I am a fan of the notion that, in our life, the one thing that is truly permanent is ourselves. If we can't stand tall, head held high, and say what we love about that one, immovable object, then it seems like we're set up for a pretty insecure life.
I've led that life. For the first twenty-two and a bit years, insecurity defined my day to day. It's only upon reflection, upon setting down the suitcases on the welcome mat, kicking my shoes off, hanging my coat up, that I can see how heavy everything was. It feels good to be light and love it.
So, this is me, starting fresh, again. For now.
I'm committing -- to, for myself -- to writing everyday. So far, so good. I've been doing daily haiku prompts with a friend and keeping my journal too. This gives me another outlet, a public one, to record those longer form thoughts. Ones I want the world to hear.
Let's see what I've got, eh?
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