Emerging : 6.28.26

It’s nearly the end of another month and the beginning of this week and I feel a little lost. Adrift in a way I can’t quite name. I don’t want to write. I’m afraid of the grief I’m holding in. I’m afraid of the goodness that’s available to me. It’s like the water pressure feels so good and strong and I’m afraid of the abundance, afraid it will break a pipe. I really feel the fear of the other shoe inevitably dropping. And it will drop.

To pretend, to hope, to place trust in the hoping that we will somehow be spared from the inevitable… But death will come wether or not we let ourselves really live today.

What I don’t want to say is that I’m tired. I’m so tired all the time and I stay up late escaping into fictional worlds and I have no one but myself to blame for the exhaustion.

What I don’t want to say is that I’m just so tired and I don’t know how to rest enough. I want to feel alive and instead I feel like a shell of myself. Everything feels effortful, even the good bits. And there are so many good bits and I’m afraid I’m not enjoying them enough.

I’m scared. I’m scared of failing, of being seen and of being ignored. I’m afraid of the good and the bad. I feel too close to everything and so far away.

I’m worried and grateful. My body is tight and hurting.

There are so many things I want to do and share and I don’t know where to begin and I feel like I ebb and flow in such drastic ways that I go from being on fire with energy to connect, share, express, and then I plunge so deep in my own internal waters that I become completely untouchable.

And I want that to be okay. But somehow it doesn’t feel okay at all.

There’s something in me that craves consistency like her life depends on it, like it would make all the problems in the world suddenly disappear if she could just stay the same.

My heart is tender. I don’t know what I need but maybe the constancy I crave doesn’t need to be found in routine, or others, or life circumstances. Maybe it could be found in my own embrace. In the consistent showing up for myself, to bring the compassionate witness within me to the front. To have her unconditional loving presence wrap me in the light of enoughness.

Maybe consistently showing up for myself just as a witness, not as a savior, advice giver, guide, problem solver, meaning maker, but just as a compassionate witness allowing everything that is present to be seen within the same unending unconditional love, maybe that is the healing of consistency I crave.

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My love, I am here now. I see you, I love you, I cherish you. You are right on time. You are doing enough. You are enough. I love every bit of you, all your worries and fears, all your hopes and dreams. I hold you in my loving embrace. I expand as you expand and cradle you when you feel small. Nothing is ever too much to love in you. I see you, I love you, always.

Standing at the edge.