When You’re Overwhelmed, Love Is Not Optional — She’s the Answer
I feel like I have so much time, and feel like I have none. And so I breathe. Deep breath in. Slower breath out. And with each breath, my confidence grows.
I feel like I have so much time, and feel like I have none. And so I breathe. Deep breath in. Slower breath out. And with each breath, my confidence grows.
What if I had enough in the bank? Would I need to wait to move until I found a job, or could I just move?! I knew the answer when I asked the question.
I no longer sit at your tables. I no longer am eager to come into your rooms. The righteous indignation rose in me like the sun rises predictably in the east.
I heard the drip of rain. At my 11 o’clock, running water. At my 9 o’clock, birds communicating. And between all of those noises, I heard stillness.
Hair falls from my head like leaves fall off trees and petals fall off flowers. Shedding—letting go—one of the most natural parts of nature.
I decided that surely love—God herself!—lowkey, highkey?!— most definitely is autistic! Because hooow could she be so literal and giving and generous and unintentionally (?) but actively hiiiiiiilarious?
There’s no need to let go of the past or the future because I hold it all now. The DNA of my ancestors still course within me. Closer to me than I am to myself. In this moment, my future is made.
Don’t keep love hidden like you do the numbers of dollars in your bank account. No! Share love like immigrants share food, trees share oxygen, and the sun shares her rays. ♡
Uncle Ralph died at 67—retirement age. I used to think, ‘I can’t wait to move abroad when I retire.’ Now I know: I can’t afford to wait to live. I don’t want anyone to learn who I am at my funeral. I want to be known now.”
I’m leaving the U.S. Not to flee, but to free. Freedom isn’t free. It’s costing me something—the familiar, the known.