The other week I wrote that all any part of me wants is love and presence. Ever since I said, “I love you” to my fearful part, it’s as if I triggered a rock slide, and now other parts are popping up and saying, “What about me? Do you love me, too?”
The practice is a difficult one because so much of my life has been geared toward fighting, toward struggling, to talking back. For instance, if I think I’m fat, my response will be, “No you’re not.” I don’t allow for the thought to even exist. Since the other week though and learning to love a part I previously only pushed away, instead of fighting back, I’m saying, “OK Rebekah. So what if you are? I love your body no matter what. If it’s fat, if it’s thin, if it’s not functioning the way you want it to, I love it, and you anyway.”
I feel vulnerable even typing that because it’s true, what I long for is unconditional love and I’ve withheld it from myself in a never-ending quest toward an unattainable ideal. I think there’s also a fear if I shower myself with unconditional love that I’ll become an inert blob, but the truth is, love doesn’t mean constant indulgence. Love means compassion, understanding, acceptance, allowance. It means saying to myself, “I see you as you are, right now, and I love you anyway.” From that place, real change and transformation occurs. Loving my fearful part didn’t make me more afraid, quite the opposite. Loving my fearful part gave me a sense of relief and peace unlike any I’ve experienced before.
Can I love it all? I’m working on it. Photo by Roman Kraft on Unsplash.
My spiritual practice promotes the cultivation of love. Of viewing everything as an expression of an infinite loving consciousness, of trying to grow the internal feeling of love. Our goal is to love all living beings and to merge ourselves in the source of that feeling. To swim in an ocean of love. The thing is though, if I keep believing some parts of me are not worthy and deserving of love, there’s no way I can give myself over to that ocean. It’s like saying, “Your legs are allowed to wade into the water, but your arms have to stay dry.” I can’t experience complete merger until I’m completely submerged.
What I’m coming to here is recognizing, again, all parts of me want love. My body wants love, my mind wants love, my emotions want love. The cool thing is I can give that to myself. I don’t have to wait for some imagined future that may never come. I don’t have to wait for someone else to come along and say, “I love all parts of you unconditionally.”
If you had asked me five years ago whether I loved myself, I would have said yes because I said affirmations and treated myself with kindness. I checked all the boxes people listed when they spoke of self-love. Now though I’ve reached a new level of love because it’s not just looking in the mirror and saying I love you. It’s saying I love you to the part of me that says mean things. It’s saying I love you to the part of me that’s disappointed. It’s saying I love you to everything, regardless of my judgment of the part. Now the answer to the question, “Do you love me, too?” is “Yes.”
I dream of a world where we love all parts of ourselves, even the parts we don’t particularly like. A world where we recognize every part is worthy and deserving of love. A world where we work toward loving ourselves unconditionally.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Historically, one of the ways I’ve dealt with uncertainty and ambiguity is to become controlling. If I didn’t know what was going on, I’d make a plan or force a decision so that I did, because then at least I’d know, and knowing was more comfortable than not knowing.
It should come as no surprise I was a stage manager in high school, and for a couple of years in college. For those unaware, the stage manager is the person behind the scenes of a show who is calling all the lighting and sound cues, the person who makes sure the sets are moving when they should, the person who determines when the show starts, even. This is not done without input or help, but the ultimate responsibility is the stage manager’s. I loved stage managing. At last my character traits of controlling and perfectionism were put to good use. Instead of being disparaged for them, I was lauded.
Will this person hitch a ride or not?
Unfortunately, while all the world’s a stage, I’m not the stage manager. Nor did I get the script in advance. For someone prone to anxiety, and who likes to know what’s happening beforehand, this is not a good combination. To manage this, I could have become the type of person who does the same thing every day, who sticks to a schedule rigidly, who never tries anything new, who lives in a safe container of the known and the familiar, but I get bored and restless. Well shucks. What’s a gal to do then?
Lately, instead of defaulting to controlling, I’m allowing all of my feelings. I’m letting it be OK that I’m scared. I’m letting it be OK that I think things should be this way or that. I’m also letting it be OK that there’s a part of me itching to decide one way or another. These days I’m letting all my parts co-exist and that means accepting uncertainty. The truth is, for all my planning, nothing ever happened the way I thought it would anyway. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop planning altogether – I will never be a person who’s comfortable flying into a foreign city without knowing where she’s sleeping that night – but it also means I’m allowing for flexibility.
According to my spiritual teacher, and many teachers, adjustment and flexibility are essentials for human progress. My teacher says, “Intelligent people will not cling to old, outdated ideas. Rather they will wholeheartedly embrace that theory which adjusts with time, space, and person, and will continue to exist forever.”
He’s speaking about societal theories here, but I think the same principle applies on an individual level. I must discard old and outdated ways of being in the world. Handling uncertainty by clinging to a fixed plan no longer serves me. Dealing with ambiguity by forcing a decision before the answer is clear no longer works for me. The only person I have any agency over is me, and treating myself with gentleness, humor, love, and respect sounds like the best plan to deal with uncertainty that I could ever concoct.
I dream of a world where we accept uncertainty. A world where we realize nothing will ever go exactly the way we planned. A world where we embrace flexibility and adjustment while we move ahead on the path of our lives. A world where we allow all parts of ourselves to exist in peaceful harmony.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I am a compulsive doer. It’s hard for me to sit still. I jokingly say I developed maladaptive stress syndrome because I burned out my adrenal glands from doing too much. But maybe it’s not a joke. It should come as no surprise then that I search far and wide for solutions to my problems. I devour every book, every method, every suggestion with frenetic fervor hoping this, this will be the answer. Thus far, the answer has not presented itself. There is nothing worse than telling a compulsive doer there is nothing to be done.
On Wednesday, I went to the doctor again as a Hail Mary. I haven’t had diagnostic tests done for several years so I figured why not? I cried and later laughed as she threw out suggestion after suggestion of things I’ve already tried. In addition, the bevvy of diagnostic tests all came back normal. It has become clear to me this is the end of the road. There is literally nothing left to do because everything has already been done.
I asked myself, knowing I have tried everything, can I finally accept my reality? Can I finally accept things as they are? After many tears, the answer is yes. A weight has been lifted from my shoulders because I no longer need to do anything. All the solutions have been tried. All that I’m left with is acceptance.
Sometimes the answer is counterintuitive, like an oasis in a desert.
Not knowing what I’ve been going through, a friend sent me a podcast from Invisibilia called “The Problem with the Solution.” In it, the show hosts talk about this very concept in the context of mental illness. They traveled to Geel, Belgium, where people with mental ailments live with families and are accepted just as they are. There is no stigma, the families don’t even know the diagnoses. Mental illness is accepted just as it is, and wouldn’t you know it, counterintuitively, people thrive in Geel. That’s not to say the diagnosis vanishes, but it improves.
In the U.S., we are obsessed with solutions. We believe if we look long enough and hard enough, the solution will present itself. But what if it doesn’t? What if there is no solution? What if the solution is accepting things as they are, right now? Please don’t misunderstand, I’m not suggesting people become doormats or tolerate injustice or give up on trying in general, but for the things which we keep trying to fix and are unable to, maybe those things require acceptance.
There’s a story in the Mahábhárata that comes to mind. When Duhshásana was pulling the sari of Draopadii, she was tightly holding the cloth to her body with one hand, beseeching lord Krśńa with the other. “Oh! My lord, save me!” But he didn’t come forward to save her. When Draopadii found no means of escape, she then released her hold on the cloth and appealed to the lord most piteously with both hands outstretched, saying, “O lord, I surrender my all to you. Do what you think is best.” And then the lord immediately rescued her.
I don’t offer that story as a means to get what we want, because surrender and acceptance has to be real, legitimate, and complete without thoughts of what we want, but the story reminds me that when I surrender, release, and let go, that’s when the divine has room to enter into my life.
I dream of a world where we accept the things we cannot change. A world where we understand there aren’t always solutions. A world where we realize instead of doing something, sometimes we need to do nothing.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
This week I got a wallop of self-inflicted shame. Ugh, is there anything worse than that cheeks-burning, hang-dog feeling? As the shame I feel doesn’t stem from harm I’ve caused myself or others, it’s not aiding anything and becomes another way that I’m mean to myself. What comforted me was hearing that shame is a perception, but also that there’s nothing wrong with me. There’s nothing broken that needs to be fixed. I don’t fully believe that, but I loved hearing the message so much I thought I’d write a letter to you and to me. For some extra oomph, listen to the audio so I can tell you just how awesome you are. =)
This picture makes me warm and fuzzy, which I think we could all use more of.
My dear, there is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing broken that needs to be fixed. There is nothing horrible that needs correcting. You are lovely and amazing just as you are in this moment. I know that may be hard to hear, but it’s true. If absolutely nothing changed, you would still live a full and rich life. I know there are parts you don’t like, parts that you’d like to change, and that’s OK, but at the same time, recognize those are choices and not requirements. You aren’t required to change any part of your person or your life. You could keep going as you are now and still be loved, respected, and fulfilled. Nothing has to change. It doesn’t. If you want it to, that’s a different story, but nothing has to.
You are doing great! I think you are doing a terrific job and I am so proud of you. Proud of who you are and who you’re becoming. Proud of all the things you have accomplished and will accomplish. You aren’t broken, or defective, or any of the things you tell yourself. You are a work in progress, but even if the progress stopped, what’s here is magnificent.
I understand that you feel ashamed, but I promise there is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing broken that needs to be fixed. Most people feel ashamed about something. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else. You are not alone now or ever. You are a part of that great, big, messy group called “human.” And you’re doing great! Let me emphasize one more time that you are loved, just as you are. If things continued like this, you would have a good life so you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, I swear. You are a treasure and a gift and I love you.
I dream of a world where we stop shaming ourselves unnecessarily. A world where we understand we are fine just as we are. A world where we know we aren’t broken and don’t need fixing. A world where we accept and love ourselves as we embrace our magnificence.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
For the audio version of this post, scroll to the bottom.
I want to be happy all the time. I don’t think I’m alone in this. What I’m noticing lately is whenever I’m scared or anxious I turn into Judgey McJudgerson and tell myself it’s bad to feel what I’m feeling. I make myself feel worse because I tell myself it’s stupid for me to startle at every noise or to have a fear of driving. Mostly I tell myself I shouldn’t feel the way I do.
Even if I don’t explicitly tell myself I shouldn’t feel scared or anxious or unhappy, I do so tacitly whenever I try to change my feelings. When I use affirmations, yoga, meditation, tapping, self-talk, going to my happy place, etc. I’m not saying these are bad tools, they’ve been very helpful, but this week I’ve been trying something new, which is to let myself be. To let the anxiety spring up without judging it, without trying to change it. Just noticing it and seeing what happens.
Let it be! I’m not sure why this image says “let it be” to me but it does. Image by James Douglas.
Ever since I was hit by a car in November, I’ve felt a little panicky every time I cross the street. My heart starts to race and I have to psyche myself up, triple checking where the cars are to ensure my safety. When I’ve tried something different, i.e. neutrality and self-compassion, I’ve noticed my fear of crossing the street has abated.
I don’t know this will work all the time, but it’s a bit of a relief to not try so hard to feel a certain way. To not judge myself and criticize myself for feeling something I don’t perceive everyone else does (i.e. being afraid of crossing the street). When I treat myself with love and self-compassion, the anxiety doesn’t fight back nearly as strongly.
Why am I telling you this? Maybe you can relate. Maybe you try to coerce yourself into being happy all the time or believing that if you’re not it’s your fault. That you’re not thinking the right thoughts, or meditating enough, or affirming enough, or eating the right food. And while those things may be true, what’s also true is that you and I are human. We are made to experience emotions. We are made to experience highs and lows. It’s unrealistic to expect that I’ll be happy all the time, and placing that expectation upon myself only makes when I’m unhappy that much worse.
How much easier would it be if we let our emotions pass like petals floating down a stream? If we didn’t expect that we could control our emotions with such exactitude? If we practiced radical self-acceptance and were kinder and gentler to our internal selves? I, for one, am finding there are a lot of emotions I’ve buried beneath my anxiety, and I wonder if I excavate them and allow myself to feel them, if my anxiety will disappear.
I dream of a world where we don’t try to force ourselves to feel one way or another. A world where we practice neutrality and self-compassion instead of judgment for our inner selves. A world where we let ourselves be.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’m hard on myself (maybe you’ve noticed) so this week has been extremely difficult because there are so many things vying for my attention — work, unpacking, laundry, dishes, grocery shopping, working on my blog redesign, recovery meetings — and I want to accomplish them all. Right this minute. Obviously I realize that’s impossible, and I understand the value of doing tasks little by little, but there’s more to it than that.
While on the phone with my recovery mentor on Friday I said, “This work, life, play balance is a bitch.” She laughed because she knows exactly what I mean. She said to me, “Something has to give and sometimes that’s our expectations.” Holy guacamole batman. In my mind, when she said “something has to give” my immediate thought was the cleanliness level of my house, i.e. taking that off of my to-do list but accomplishing everything else on it. So when she said instead that my expectations can give, my mind was blown. You mean I can throw away my expectation that I’ll have unpacked all of my belongings by now? You mean I can throw away my expectation that my blog redesign will have been completed by today, Sunday, the day my new posts go up? Whoa there. Just whoa.
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| I feel like this woman sometimes. |
What I love about this is I can take myself off the hook. I allow myself more wiggle room. I allow myself the understanding sometimes things take longer than I think they will. And that’s OK. It means I don’t have to take anything off my to-do list but I do get to adjust the when. My self-will is subtracted out of the equation because instead I acknowledge some things are out of my control, even if they seem like they should be in my control! Unpacking, washing dishes, doing laundry, it seems like these things are in my hands, but I’m realizing they are and they are not because they are working in tandem with many other factors, thus when they get done is in this instance not up to me. I’m only human and I can only accomplish so much in a day.
In essence, I’m trying really hard to practice the acceptance part of the serenity prayer. I’ve heard many times that:
“Acceptance is the answer to all my problems today. When I am disturbed, it is because I find some person, place, thing, or situation — some fact of my life — unacceptable to me, and I can find no serenity until I accept that person, place, thing, or situation as being exactly the way it is supposed to be at this moment. Nothing, absolutely nothing, happens in God’s world by mistake … [U]nless I accept life completely on life’s terms, I cannot be happy. I need to concentrate not so much on what needs to be changed in the world as on what needs to be changed in me and in my attitudes.”
This means I also accept I’m not perfectly practicing this passage. It means I’m letting go of my expectations that just because I want to no longer feel fear, insecurity, lack, or what have you, doesn’t mean the feelings will necessarily disappear this instant. They could, but it’s foolish (and troublesome) for me to expect them to. I’m doing my best and that’s good enough. And in this instance, I’m releasing my expectation of what “my best” means.
I dream of a world where we release our expectations. A world where we understand sometimes things take longer than we planned. A world where we realize life is messy and chaotic and dramatic and doesn’t always fit in neat, orderly boxes. A world where we live in acceptance of what is while also understanding some things can be changed. And sometimes that thing needs to be us.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I am very self-willful (some would say controlling) in that I want things to go a certain way. I want people to call me back when I want them to; I want the world to revolve around my needs. Train delays? Miscommunication? No good.
Thankfully, I no longer stay in my controlling state for long because I recognize the futility of it. Instead, I've allowed myself to surrender to the process. To give up my tight grip and accept life on life's terms.
Many of you know I'm currently in Washington, D.C. for a spell (three months or so). The reason I'm here is because if I'd continued with my way of life in San Francisco I would have had a nervous breakdown. I don't mean the tie-me-up-in-a-strait-jacket kind of nervous breakdown, I mean the my-nervous-system-is-so-shot-I-can-barely-function kind.
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| I aspire to be like this guy. |
It's only been a short time since I left SF but I can already feel the difference — I'm not in as much fear, I don't startle as easily, and I'm becoming more tolerant of noises. (More being the operative word here.)
I'm not sure what I want to express in this post except that it's important to let go of our wants sometimes in order to receive what we need. It would be very easy for me to lament I no longer live in San Francisco, to continue to compare my life here with the one I left behind, but then I miss out on all the good D.C. has to offer. The more I compare, the more I resist the flow of life. And the flow of life is taking me to good places. For one, I am incredibly blessed that my friends have made it easy to come back to the East Coast. It's been a smooth transition in that whenever I go to parties a whole roomful of people are excited to see me, and there's nothing sweeter than that.
There are so many benefits to being here for now, it's important for me to stay here now, meaning live where my feet are. I have no idea what the next few months will bring (I never do) but I find especially in uncertain times I need to surrender to the process. To give myself over to the divine mystery and accept there are forces at work that I don't fully understand. I don't have to have all the answers. I don't have to plan the minutia of my life. I only have to let go of my will to see all the options before me.
I dream of a world where we let go. A world where we give into the process of life. A world where we accept we don't always know what's best for us. A world where we take life as it comes and trust it will take us where we need to go next.
Another world is not only possible, it's probable.
This post has been a year in the making so it’s fitting it will be my last post of 2012 (probably). “Living in reality” has been the theme for me this year. There is so much I wanted to believe, so much I hoped for, that hasn’t come true. I’ve spent most of this year feeling heartbroken and sad because my fantasies came crashing down around my head. But that’s a good thing.
It’s a good thing because instead of being in denial, or waiting for the day xyz will happen, I’m addressing what’s here, now. Fantasy has been a huge part of my life. I used to get lost in my head dreaming about the future. It was my coping mechanism as a child and I needed it to survive. But now I’m an adult and it no longer serves me to fantasize because it means I miss out on all the good stuff that’s here before me. Living in reality means I’m no longer comparing what’s in front of me with the dream in my mind.
You might be perplexed reading this when my blog is called “Another World is Probable.” Isn’t my whole blog one big idealistic fantasy? No, it is not. My dreams for a new world may be somewhat of a fantasy but I see seeds of those dreams in the everyday world. There exists unconditional love and heroism in the here and now. I think of Victoria Soto who died while saving her students from a shooter. I think of the principal of Sandy Hook elementary school who also died trying to wrest the gun from the shooter. This is real life.
It’s tempting for sensitive souls and spiritualists to say, “Let’s pray about this and visualize a better world,” and have that be the end of it. I agree, let’s pray and visualize a better world, but let’s also do something. Let’s also invest in mental health care, let’s notice who’s around us and what they’re doing. Let’s listen to each other and take action when others are suffering. We can’t keep living in a fantasy about “the good ole days” or dreaming of the future when something a psychic predicted will come to pass. It doesn’t matter what life was like 50 years ago, or what it will be like 50 years ahead. What matters is reality. I’m not saying we should all start miring in the darkness, lamenting how awful things are. I’m suggesting we take stock of what’s before us and keep hoping for the best.
I would much rather acknowledge the good things in this world than fantasizing about something better. There are so many beautiful things in reality. People sacrificing their lives for someone else. Neighbors helping each other in time of need. Little children who squeal with delight when they see their favorite cup.
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| When I wrote about “children who squeal with delight when they see their favorite cup” I was thinking of this picture. So stinking cute! |
I’m not sure what I’m driving at except that I see the wisdom of accepting things as they are while also trying to change the things we can. I think maybe Howard Zinn sums it up best:
“An optimist isn’t necessarily a blithe, slightly sappy whistler in the dark of our time. To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness. What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives. If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places — and there are so many — where people behaved magnificently, this gives us energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction.”
But I think first and foremost this comes about by living in reality and seeing what’s here, now.
I dream of a world where we live in reality while also striving for something better. A world where we see the beauty of what is. A world where we celebrate our triumphs and lament our failures. A world where we live in the here and now while also seeing infinite possibilities for the future.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Where I am today is complete allowance of all that is. Not all of you will understand this blogpost, and that’s ok. It’s written for those of you it resonates with.
A few weeks ago I told my mom it’s a miracle I’m feeling my feelings. She said, “Rebekah, you’re human, so of course you’re feeling your feelings.” No. Not true. I have used everything to escape feeling my emotions – food, television, books, crushes – anything besides feeling them. The fact I’m now feeling my emotions really is a miracle. On Friday night I felt sad and lonely and a little crazy and instead of reaching for something to distract me, I just felt my feelings. I wanted to use affirmations, put a positive spin on all of it, but ultimately I allowed what was.
I am completely allowing myself to feel my feelings: good, bad, and ugly. I am no longer forcing myself to feel better or trying to hide parts of myself for fear others will judge me. Not just my feelings, but all parts of me. On Friday I even *gasp* went to the pool without shaving. It was perhaps the first time I walked into the pool completely unselfconscious. It was perhaps the first time in my life I allowed myself to be who I am in public without fear, without hesitation. Most of the time I’m only my true self when I feel it’s safe to do so: in the comfort of my home, with friends, at spiritual retreats. Friday was the first time it didn’t matter to me if I was being judged.
This all comes at a great time because I finished editing my book and I sent it to a professional copyeditor. I’m freaking out because that means someone else is going to read it! That probably sounds really funny because, um, when you write books you generally want people to read them. And furthermore I blog regularly about my personal life so why the commotion?
The commotion is Just a Girl From Kansas is not my blog. It’s much more personal. People are going to read my journal entries. They’re going to read my most intimate thoughts and feelings. They’re going to experience all the highs and lows I went through when I first moved to California and everything after that. It’s not a light and fluffy account. It’s my real life in its most raw form.
I’m scared because after this there is no more hiding. There is no pretending I’m a “normal” girl with a “perfect” life. All my crazy will be on display and how will people react? Except I’m not sure it matters all that much, because like I wrote a few weeks ago, those that mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind. What it really comes down to is me. Allowing myself to be all that I am, allowing myself to be who I am without limits. Allowing all expressions of myself, allowing all parts of myself to exist and know they’re all ok. No one part is better than the other. Even my unpleasant feelings are acceptable. Even my sometimes-hairy legs are acceptable. I can allow all of it.
I dream of a world where we allow ourselves to be all that we can be. A world where we give ourselves permission to do so. A world where we show up for our lives and let things be what they are. A world where we love ourselves unconditionally, even the parts we don’t necessarily want the world to see. A world where we live in complete allowance knowing self-love is what matters the most.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
Maybe it’s the perfectionist in me, but whenever something goes wrong in any of my relationships I assume it’s my fault. It’s because I’m weird or said the wrong thing or did the wrong thing. I am always to blame. Except. . .I’m not.
I had an encounter with a friend last week that showed me other people are to blame too. I’m not always the bad guy. Yeah, I “knew” other people had flaws but somehow they didn’t register because the really flawed people I don’t associate with. I somehow assumed everyone around me was near perfect because they didn’t club baby seals. My rose-colored glasses finally fell off when I looked at my friend and really saw him. He can be impulsive and live completely in the now, which means he doesn’t always think things through. A little part of me worries about typing that because, “What will my friend think?” but honestly he probably won’t think much because — it’s ok for me to not be “perfect” and it’s ok for other people to not be perfect as well. We’re human. We all have our character flaws. All of us. Even the really nice lovely people. Even those we cherish the most. So when I’m fighting with someone, no, I’m not solely to blame. No, I’m not the only one who makes mistakes. I’m not the only screw up in the room.
Other people have free will, other people are allowed to make choices and mess up, and yeah, that will affect me. No one else has all the answers or “acts perfectly” or has it all figured out. No one else has a manual for how to go through life. I thought they did, I felt like an alien invader, but now I realize everyone else is just trying to figure it out too. Some people put on a better show than others, but really everyone is just doing their best putting one foot in front of the other.
I guess I’m saying I finally understand relationships involve other people. (Duh Rebekah!) Other people are allowed to air their dirty laundry, to play out their character defects, to blunder through life. I don’t have to hold myself to a different standard, either higher or lower. People are going to be who they are and oftentimes it has nothing to do with me. I didn’t do anything wrong, I didn’t elicit a certain response. People are just. . .people.
I’m not conveying it very well but I feel such relief because I finally know my part in things, and it’s not everything. I finally understand how much is my stuff and how much is other people’s stuff. What a relief to not constantly take ownership of other people’s flaws! What a relief to acknowledge where I went wrong and where other people went wrong! Not with judgment but with acceptance. What a relief to say, “Oh, I see, they’re being impulsive, or acting out their control issues, or miring in entitlement,” or whatever and realize it’s theirs. To be living completely attuned to myself. What a gift.
I dream of a world where we can recognize people as people. A world where we understand everyone is doing their best, everyone has their character kinks they’re working on. A world where we understand what belongs to us and what belongs to other people. A world where we live on our side of the street, knowing it’s more than enough to take care of.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.