I don’t know what happened. I’m in such need of sleep and rest and of everyone out of my life. I’m like the bouncer at 2AM at the bar slowly (and sometimes douchily) ushering everyone out of my life. Well, no. Of course I know what happened. I just kept going and going and going and not taking time for me. I was living for external factors and not for me.
And (with a little help) I just got burnt out. Super burnt out. And then I got a case of (potentially irreversable) zombie face.
When I get all zombieface like this, it gets easier for my heart to get ignited by issues rather than people. (I mean, some people get the job done, but not often, lately) I’ve been self-shaming for not being as open and kind and happy as I was before. I’ve definitely been feeling guilty as shit for being so distant and not as open-armed as I normally am.
So I’ve been running, full speed, towards things that make me feel like a good person again. Like volunteering. And cuddling my kitteh. And flossing.
I’m a liar. I know exactly what happened. I hit my tower. In tarot, the tower is the point when it all crumbles. It happens over and over again in your life, because sometimes things need to crumble in order for things to start growing again. My tower toppled easily and hard.
So now, as you know, I’m just hermiting-it, growin’ ma’beard and just letting it fall. A pretty wise person recently told me:
there is no attraction for wonderful life events like wide open space.
It helped me not feel like as much of a dick as I was feeling. This, this being quiet and all hermity and spending most of my time at home….this is the best kind of self-love. It’s a quiet sort-of ok. I’m just….okay.
So now, maybe, I’m the star. I’m the hermity-tower-star. Because this heart of mine is healing. (boi oh boi am I lucky there are so many ways to keep my heart open.) But I’m becoming a better me. One of my favorite ways to keep my heart open? Sheer fucking honesty. To lay out a naked canvas, whip out the ol’ paints and paint something so raw it’s scary.
It’s been a long time since I’ve done that; painted something just for me. It’s like I was leading up to this – buying cigarettes and establishing my independence, doing things alone, focusing on me…I know that the best kind of art (the kind that helps you work shit out) is the art that you do when you smash your walls and let yourself be raw. And this time, instead of asking everyone how they like it and secretly being super scared that my art sucks, I thought to myself: Fuck them if they don’t like it. This is for me. Fuck them.
It. Felt. Good.
It’s like a sign that I’m doing the right thing. I’m quiet and okay with it and just….present. And I’m reconnecting with awesome people…especially me. (the awesomest) And just like my pretty rockin’ friend told me, the quiet will allow wonderfulness to come into my life.
I’ll leave you beautiful little blogsters with an old Serbian proverb:
Be amazing, loves. Take the time to focus on you.