this is usually the part where I say something about words and silence, and being gone and coming back, losing the words and trying to find them again, but – let’s just skip it. because I don’t really know what I have to say about the words and the silence and the finding again.
but I do know that somehow, the writing of it helps.
learning, as of late:
be the first person in the room to admit that you’re hurting. or scared. or unsure. or whatever it is. I guarantee, you’re not the only person. everyone’s just trying to pretend they’ve got it together. be the first person to say it – and be a safe place to let other people say it, too.
when in doubt, wear lipstick.
take risks. things are scary. do them anyway.
give hugs. give lots of hugs. sometimes all you can do is sit there, and let someone cry on your shoulder. be there. show up. give hugs.
take selfies. decide you’re beautiful. declare yourself beautiful.
want things. it hurts, sometimes. the dreaming hurts. there’s an ache when you’ve been wanting for so long and that want remains unfilled. don’t stop wanting, though. don’t stop dreaming.
you will get through this. you got this. you are so much stronger than you think.
make peace with the not-knowing. it’s not easy. it’s unsettling. but accept it, as best you can, that perhaps this is a time of questions and not answers. a time of deconstructing and pulling apart and unraveling. let it be. maybe it’ll all come back together. maybe it won’t. learn how to sit in the middle and call it beautiful.
learn how to call it all beautiful.