I went, ironically, radio silent here as I started recording my podcast. It felt like my quota of words was met in one way or another, or maybe just my allotted time to create. Then my sleep begins to grow shorter, less, and lower quality, for many (many) reasons. But one of them? My brain begins to write. Composing in whatever medium my sleepy self can comprehend. Status updates, long articles, pieces I wish I’d had to read when my babies were young. Books 1/10th written about bodies, and love, and space, and growth. Chapter titles and outlines pouring out in a half asleep state that cover the gamut from parenting and love to communication and self exploration. Writing fragments of my thoughts on how in the ever loving world can a woman begin to step into body self love when the concept of body neutral feels slippery and impossible to hold in anything other than open hands, I’m working to soften into that space when all they ache for is grasping something firm that won’t be gone the moment I relax.
And so I come back here. Again revisiting my boundaries and motives. Again with muddy drafts and first thoughts to a hopefully forgiving few. What has morphed from a college girl food blog, to a Mom blog that held nothing back, the page that held pieces I regret posting during a time that I was deep in thoughts I now can’t fathom believing. And now, a shift. Again. To something I can’t quite define, to words I can’t help but share. To a bubbling up of hope for all of us. That what we have and are is enough, that what we want to grow and cultivate isn’t too much, and that expecting something better can be held with that same soft hand that I’m allowing some inky wet self love to be poured into.
I guess I’m popping back to say, I still have words. I still feel, especially in the middle of the night, that there is so much to convey about the love and growth and connection I want everyone to get to feel. With their lovers, friends, children, chosen and given family. But maybe mostly, with ourselves.
I have nothing finished. I have no thoughts complete. I have anecdotal experience of moving a brain like a giant pendulum and feeling the need to write because I’m no longer swinging like a wrecking ball from side to side so violently. I know that’s where many (many) of us are, so I want to bring some words from the softening. The slowing. The middle ground of “yes, and.”
Thank you, for what has been longer than a decade now, sweet little internet corner, for being that space. Where the midnight words can be housed and taken from sleep theife to connection grasp.