I’ve been getting the same message through most conversations that I’ve been having lately: be honest about your life and follow what’s really important. Creativity is one of those. I’ve been feeling like I’m losing my mind because I’m buying into the bullshit culture of my job. It’s not so awful, it’s just a lifestyle and leaves no room for me.
I’ve been having these conversations with people I’ve recently become friends with, coworkers….I’ve been finding these messages in the strangest places, but it’s leading me towards happiness; towards finally feeling like I get it again.
So I’ve been staying in. I’ve been valuing people for who they are. I’ve been trying to listen. And I’ve been forcing myself to at least write a little each day.
The idea of vulnerability is so scary to me lately. I’ve been locked up so tight, this heart of mine hasn’t been breathing much. Most “romantic” situations involve me bailing before breakfast and thanking god that I only have a [beautiful and incredible and just so lovely] cat to come home to. You know, or falling in love with some rando dude at We Fest and getting super sad when he doesn’t text back (ugh). But it’s not just the romantic piece of it. I’ve been wondering why I disengage from friends, why I tend to just bail when potential lovers get too deep, and why I want to have deep, emotional conversations but they also make me want to vom a little.
Wtf. I used to be the fucking queen of vulnerability and exploring my heart/the hearts of others. I used to love that shit. Fuck, I even had an art series in which I asked everyone that I met “if you could paint your heart right now, if it could be ANYTHING, what would it look like?” [one of my favorites was a fishbowl heart, chiggity check it below. It’s also on instagram. Handle: leeannfabulous]
And don’t we always want to go back to a time that was better? Or seems better according to our spotty memories. Regardless, vulnerability is important. I saw the title quote the other day and it just seemed to stick. “Write hard and clear about what hurts.” Ignoring the fear of being too dramatic or emotional and looking like a dbag (since when do we actually give a shit about what we really look like?), I’m taking a stab at it. A tiny stab. Like a Killer Dolls, little-tiny-hand-with-a-little-tiny-knife-that-doesn’t-really-do-a-whole-lot-but-is-still-scary-as-shit stab. And if I come up with anything worth reading, I’ll post it. Until then, you guys do it too. I think the world would benefit from more vulnerability.
This week (or month, or whatever) I’m working on being vulnerable. Feeling those feelings. Not shutting off and not pretending just because it’s easier.
Be vulnerable, and be real my gorgeous blog monsters. And keep that heart open.
Until next time,