Journal
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The Part Where You Stop Being Afraid of Being Seen
This year, I finally came to a place where the notion of a perfect and absolute right time and ideal self was too heavy of a burden. For the longest time, it was a reasonable idea. I’d tell myself that I would show this website to people when it had just the right amount of posts, the most compelling writing, when I had finished my art gallery, when I wasn’t this current level of ill, when I once again had a solid social media presence, when I was as close as I could get to being a properly contributing to society able bodied person, when people might give a shit…
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A Rock In The River
Note: This is the only blog post I am keeping from before I revamped. As a reminder of where I’ve been, my strength, progress and growth. I. This blog is written in bed. Always. A bed that isn’t only bed but home, table, sanctuary and world. It is written on a small phone set on dark mode, night shift and Do Not Disturb. It is written by feel and hope. Eyes glancing the screen every other paragraph trying desperately to stretch the minutes left before the timer buzzes; ability dripping away. It is written with thankful hands that remember home keys as really home. With fingers that flutter across a…