What to Say?

I've always felt like my very favorite paintings showed up when my heart hurt the most. As though working through all of that pain was somehow translated into something beautiful on the canvas.

I kind of feel the same way about my writing.  When everything is confusing and hurting and difficult and painful and ugly, I write and write and write. I learn. I discover. I hurt. I write.

But...when everything feels pretty good...my muse just...disappears. As though she can only survive by feeding off of my pain, and my happiness causes her to shrivel up and die.

I thought about that today, because I'm having what I can only call a "bad mental health week." I'm anxious. Moody. Depressed. Freaking out. (And navigating it pretty well, I might add - yay for healthy coping mechanisms!). But today I thought, "But now I have something to write about because I am less than happy!"

And I was weirdly happy about being less than happy because I missed writing.

What. The. Fuck.

I think that because I have really opened up, in a really public manner, about the things that I struggle with - depression, anxiety, gossip, feelings of inadequacy, not fitting in, not feeling worthy, the mess that is life - and really connected with people through these discussions, that I'm afraid of losing that connection by writing about things that are NOT a struggle. Writing about happiness. About being strong. And healthy.

I think that I'm kind of afraid that if I write about being healthy and strong and happy, that I might alienate the people who felt connected and safe with me when we talk about the really hard stuff. That they might feel left behind. Or less than enough because their healing journey isn't taking the same route or pace that mine is. That I might lose them.

That I might lose you.

And that scares me, because this blog, and this journey, and the connections that I have made with people in the last year are so important to me.

You are so inspiring to me and such an important part of my life. Falling apart really kind of saved me, because it connected me to people in a way that I have never been connected before. And that has been really, really amazing.

I'm so glad that I feel good. I DO feel healthy, and I DO feel happy and I DO feel strong. And I want the same for every single person that I meet. I want that for you. But I don't want you to feel as though you're not healthy enough or strong enough or happy enough if your journey doesn't match mine. If your healing process takes a different path. If you want to crawl into bed on the day that I want to talk about running. It's ok. You're still enough. I promise.

So, I guess I'm just hoping that we can make a deal.

I want to write. And I want to write about life as it happens. Right now, it's pretty good. I don't want to ignore that. I want to celebrate that.

I also want to respect you.  I know that I have a lot of readers that came here because sometimes shit gets really bad and it helps to talk to someone that is going through the same thing. I haven't forgotten what that's like. And I know it could easily happen again.

You're still safe here. I respect your journey and where you are. But I believe things can get better. I believe that we have incredible strength and stamina and at the end of the day we can handle whatever life throws at us, and throw it right back. But you at your pace, me at mine.

I'll keep sharing my journey because I want you to know that healing is possible and that from the deepest despair, the most amazing life can emerge. I fight for this life every day and it is truly beautiful. If you're fighting, I'm on your side. But if you're a little too tired to fight today...I'm still on your side.

Because we keep going, right? You at your pace, me at mine. We keep moving forward, in the best way that we can, and we remember and embrace and celebrate the fact that we really do deserve to be happy.

And if my muse isn't ok with that, honestly...she can suck it.

Because there's nothing wrong with happy.










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