I have the hardest time letting go.
Some nights I just can't breathe. When I finally cry, it's always in the most involuntary of ways--hands tucked into my sides, fists balled and digging into my waist as hard as I can just to keep myself upright. It's a rush of release, a baptism of tears and for me it's what I image drowning and then coming to the surface would be like. Gasping. Grateful. Broken. It's never at the right time and it's absolutely never pretty to witness.
Coming to yourself in honesty is painful. I'm realizing lately how okay it is to be completely vulnerable. Completely open. Completely raw. It's okay to be a little bit bruised. Like a banana...only, you know. Not.
I don't know when I stopped being upfront with myself and others. Lately I feel like I'm speaking a dead language. I feel like I've dug up a backyard treasure of words and emotions. When did it become so radical to just speak your mind? I'm not talking about politics or parenting, I mean in self worth as a woman.
The last time I can remember being myself was 5 years ago. That's the last time I can recall being upfront and passionately open with a guy--with myself even. The moment that I spoke out loud about my feelings I could literally see the panic bubbling up in his eyes. Every word that spilled out caused a second of his life to fall away and he was already mentally composing a text to his best friend Sean or Travis or Eli who was down the street drinking beer alone: "Dude. This. Girl. Is. Ducking. Crazy." Tears welled up in my eyes and I hung my head and muttered in the most joking way that I could "I'm just shitting you, of course". He nodded too fast. We laughed awkwardly. And that was it. I remember the exact moment I split almost in two with shame and vowed to stop being so ridiculous and emotional and such a stupid girl.
And that's hard to admit. Because I'm now 32. I have a son. I'm just finding my footing again and with that my voice is coming back. I am unabashedly in love with so many people and I tell them often--that is my heart. I'm not interested in pussyfooting around in general, not anymore at least. There is something very freeing about just being sincere and demanding the same thing in return. Speaking in tongues, in cryptic measures, in that dead dead language that I am so determined to bring back--honesty without fear.
On a recent trip to California for business, I had some real time to do soul searching. I screamed into the hills and 5 years of repression came exploding out, fucking up my brand new eyelash extensions. I had a gin-induced dance party completely barefoot on wet grass. I laughed and laughed and laughed until I ached. I sent the text I've been waiting to send for years "I'm not sorry anymore. I was honest. You should have asked me to coffee more. You should have valued me. You should have been honest...I was."
If reclaiming pieces of you was visible, there would have been great beams of light flowing into my core. It will happen for you too, no matter how much you've been hurt. No matter how dishonest you've been with yourself.
I used to give myself 30 days to "get over" things. I realize now that everything moves at it's own pace. Sometimes it's 30 days...times a lot.
Not everyone is going to respond well and not everyone is going to fall madly in love with you (but they should). Maybe you're like me and walk into walls a lot and trip over your own feet. Maybe you've given away far too many pieces of your spirit away in these life transactions with others. I'm not saying to not make mistakes or not sleep with the wrong guy or two or three. Maybe you need a Stella Brings Her Groove Back moment like mine in the midst of strangers in a muddy dress and wild hair. We all come into our own at exactly the right moment.
Speak in honest words and tones, even if you aren't there yet. Be careful who you let squeeze the produce, be the keeper of your own heart and mind and never turn down whiskey. Value yourself deeper than you even think you can.
As for right now, I believe in Stella and I believe in me. I'm not magnificent, but I'm ok.
