You painted a pretty picture of me
The type of girl you hoped I’d be
A model citizen
Who fits right in

I held on to the frame displaying the girl who boxed me in

My grip too strong for too long
It suddenly slipped from my fingers
Tumbling down and shattered in pieces all around me

It wasn’t at all remarkable
The crash
In fact, I felt so light after it dropped
That I just walked away
Like it never happened
Leaving the pieces all over the floor

I did want to be her
Tried to be her
But I failed

Oh, what fun it’s been to finally fail!
Over and over
Making a mess
Laughing at myself
While discovering the true version of me

How intimidating it must be
To approach a woman
Who is starting over from a place of strength and independence Who is free

How special it is
To be chosen by someone like this
Because they don’t need you at all
They want you

If you pay attention to the difference
One represents a careful choice
The other flows out of desperation
Quite a difference in sensation

Deep, deep in the woods
is where I was left
A remote part of the forest where you can only hear whispers
but not make out the words

A dense canopy overhead
Not a ray of light would dare travel so far or so low
as to find me

I knew I wasn’t alone
but I felt so far from where the people were living
in quaint little houses
Civilized
Together with their put-together families

There I stood
eyes wide
sensing danger around each corner
I’d be eaten if I stayed still much longer
Sure, it would be an easier route out of here
And yet, if I had to choose to eat or get eaten
I wouldn’t become someone’s meal
to be chewed on and spit out

When you lose one of your senses
you aren’t left defenseless
Because, you see, the others wake up out of sheer necessity

Would you be surprised if I told you
the first one I leaned into
was touch?

When felled trees were left to rot
they became the deadwood I stepped over
never to meet again

I learned to feel for the trees with sturdy roots
standing firmly
Their branches greeting and guiding me
to the next

The forest was full of chatter
Too loud
It felt deafening

Every wild animal, it seemed, had something to say about me
“You’re wrong,” I said, at once
Startled by the sound of my own voice
It sounded louder than it ever had before
Stronger
Less shaky
And that’s when they quieted down and
allowed me to hear my inner teacher instead

I’d like to say I stumbled upon some wild berries to munch on
But I wasn’t hungry
never hungry
until
from the distant houses
came the perfect breeze
The smell of bread baking
coffee brewing
made by those perfect people I imagined in their perfect little houses

However, as I inched closer
their words become more distinct
and they weren’t always happy, or perfect, but had real conversations
I could hear their loss and regret and heartache

They were just like me
I wasn’t proud to be eve’s dropping
But I knew then I wasn’t alone
People everywhere in all the houses are struggling
Like me

And so I became hungry for life again
I looked up, eyes forward, instead of behind me
where I could finally see one ray at first, then another, and another
A well-lit path away from past darkness

Don’t forget to
tie up the year
into a pretty little bow.

I’m not suggesting
you gloss over
the lows.

Rather, I want you to consider
doing yourself a big favor
by remembering
the little moments
that brought you levity and brightness.

It’s within the recall
where you’ll finally find
what it all means.

Throughout the year
you are gathering moments
like picking up sticks from the ground.

You hold them
not knowing exactly why
or where they came from.

All you know is that you can’t just set them down. Not yet.

And by December
they feel heavy and more than awkward piled up in your arms.

Now is your opportunity
to place all the branches down.
Give yourself a break because
scattered in front of you
are the building blocks for authenticity and joy.

What do you see?
Did you gather enough wood to make a fort?
A shed?
A bow?
Or maybe there’s just enough to start the foundation for something more solid next year.

It’s up to you
to sit with
and find meaning
in your stockpile this season.

As I stare into the fireplace this morning
flames dancing
I’m doing just that.

Remembering
Appreciating
Figuring out what I’ve been channeling.

It’s not clear to me in this moment
what shape or size my structure will be
but
I will say
I’ve never considered building anything like it before.

It’s more than just the miles
It is what they represent
A metaphor for this pretty little life of ours

Starting on shaking legs
walking often
In time and with perseverance
leads to power and confidence
Great big strides

Muscling through
until I catch myself
sprinting madly in pitch-black streets
no street lamps for miles
but I no longer fear the darkness

I see it as a necessary evil

It once engulfed me completely
and spit me out
a different shape of me

Frost’s words,
“and miles to go before I sleep”
Speak to me differently
now that I’m older

A person pondering the end
but not yet ready
still inspired by what they can still achieve

I will be the first one to say,
“I’m too old for this”
but time and time again I see it’s not true
never true

Because there’s so much I thought I couldn’t do
wouldn’t live through
and proved myself wrong

I don’t wish to have a clear mind.
This week, I’d rather be distracted.

I can’t help but notice
when I dig in too deep
my hands come up filthy.

This week
I want to be shallow.

Barely skimming the surface
forgetting the roots
and
breaking away from the slog of self growth.

I don’t wish to be wise
or thoughtful
deep or
trustworthy.

I’m tired from the excavation
I need a vacation
from myself.

Next week you’ll find me
back in the grind
of propelling myself forward.

But for now
I’m gonna have to go ahead and cancel last minute
on the plans I’ve made
to become a better creature than I was before.

I’m no good yet
at being the new me.

Strings from old spiderwebs
attach themselves
tangling up and slowing down
the forward motion.

The past
finds me
and reminds me
of the grooves of old patterns
meant to define me.

Where do I go from here?
How do I make sure to never abandon myself again?

I find I am often
simply alone
questioning every move I make
simply exhausted
from not quite knowing how to trust myself.

I briefly considered
spinning up
a happy ending
full of wisdom.

But, instead
I’d rather sit uncomfortably
in the reality of this feeling.
Staring it in the face
rather than
my pattern of
running from it.

We spend so much of our time and energy
placing expectations on others

What if we
used our precious time on earth instead
to look within?

Would we be scared of what we’d find?
Would it too closely resemble what we’re trying to change about everyone else?
Would it be too ugly to face?

What if we
stood bravely and confronted the messed up parts?

Dissecting them
Becoming curious
Shifting and deciding to
Take responsibility
For who we are

What if we
could change how we treat others just by being in tune with ourselves?

Sensing the unified struggle to be alive
Noticing the heaviness each of us carries
We’d recognize ourselves in others

What if we
instead of pointing fingers
extended our whole hand
our whole selves
generously

Asking for nothing in return