I've only written in my journal over the past couple of months. Sure… I launched this, and I've written for the blogs I create content for my job. That stuff isn't writing. It isn't the deep churning cacophonous stuff that I needed to write about. So, as I have since I was 4, I took to my journal. So many people find it hard to believe that I blog and STILL journal, but I do. I just made that up, actually. I don't know if "so many" is fair to say-- a few people have remarked about the uselessness of writing a journal when you are a blogger. They are dumb, and I am prone to over exaggeration.
Life has been really hard since October. There have been several bright spots and I've continued to thrive regardless of circumstances. I've learned to hold perspective really loosely. I used to say "your perceived reality is reality." I don't say that anymore. The thing is that our perceptions are so heavily colored by so many variables. Our sophisticated brains are fully capable of constructing a narrative that never really existed even if we are able to identify concrete facts. So how do we navigate when we find ourselves in these places?
I'll be damned if I haven't come to believe that the answer is as complex and as simple as: Community.
The people who hold you up are the same people who help anchor you when your past, your present, and your future come into question. I stopped writing because I needed to be so present and so laser focused on where I was at in the moment. I needed to live life. I've been living. Something in me has shifted. I hate to admit that, but a certain hardness has melted away. Again, I think it is because of my community and the way loved ones have soothed me wounds during dark seasons. I also think I discovered an inner strength that took me by surprise.
I also didn't edit this post because it was just a brain dump.
I am trying to say I've come alive again in the most difficult way. My words are returning. I am pushing through the mud. I am growing.
And that isn't an exaggeration.