For years I’ve struggled with a version of me who didn’t feel whole.
You might be able to relate to what I’m saying; have you ever experienced a sense of dissonance, of not belonging, of feeling like you’re physically present, but well, not really present?
I’m not a psychologist, a spiritual leader, or a religious scholar. If I had to brand myself as anything in that department, it would be ‘curious agnostic.’
But lately (and yes, I am going to start a sentence with but, and to hell with it), I’ve grown terribly weary of the continual wrestling with purpose, the endless, circuitous loop of self-doubt and angst, of sudden panic attacks and mental meltdown. Of saying after a few champagnes on every NYE, “this year I’m going to be comfortable in my own skin.”
It’s time to be real, and if people don’t like it, well, feck them. And if they do like it, great!
I sat on a rock this morning, by the water in Sydney. I made the decision. Write. Just bloody well write, and stop over-thinking it. So here we go, be gone self-doubt, you have no place here. This is where I want it to begin. Again.
#writefromtheheart because even Alice in Wonderland needs a hashtag.