For someone that is paid to speak and present and blah blah blah…I’m feeling out of sorts today. For the first time in a very long time I wrote a long missive, spilling thoughts that are tumbling about, emotions and feelings that have me on the edge, revealing insecurities, longing and a desire to hear assurances. Where is this coming from? Is it the convergence of everything? Is it the disconnection that feels like a new normal and unsurmountable? I don’t know. But for the first time in a long time I’ve written one of those missives. The one in which it’s so raw and real that it frightens you to reread it. And so it sits, unsent, in the drafts folder.
is me is really me
random. raw. real. ok, mebbe not so random.
is me is really me 
Take it from someone with a lot of experience with this. Sometimes just getting the words out and on paper is the first step, reading them is the second and the third and the fourth and so on until you come to terms with it in your own way. It doesn’t make it easier, it doesn’t take away the pain but sometimes it helps to rationalize it in your own head and heart. And sometimes it doesn’t. I wish there was a magic wand to wave away the way you feel because I have been there and am going through it now it counseling. All I can say is keep going. Work through it. Write it down. As my counselor tells me when you write it down you are forced to face the reality of it, good or bad. No matter what we are here
❤️❤️ Hugs my friend. This too shall pass. x
Ooh font we all have a bunch of those too fearful to post drafts. I know I have at least ten of them waiting. Hugs to you.
I’ve been wondering about you. Often the quiet ones are going through the most.