“You’re not the same as you were before,” he said. “You were much more… muchier…
you’ve lost your muchness.”
It’s not easy having to pick and choose the words to keep hearts safe yet still speak my truth. Just over eighteen months ago I was pushed into a rabbit hole. One day everything was normal, and the next my entire world was upside down and nothing made sense anymore. It consumed me. A year and a half is a long time to be stuck underground and I am still holding onto fistfuls of rubble and dirt. Part of me wants to ferociously sling that mud with abandon, and part of me wants to bury it so deeply it can’t ever be dug up again. I see-saw between the two.
Throughout this time my creative spark felt like it was completely extinguished. I panicked. I’ve lived with that little light inside me forever. Burning. Keeping me breathing. What if it didn’t come back? What if it was lost? I’ve spent countless hours successfully putting on the happy mask, donning the war paint and trudging through the day-to-day. Is this what they call ‘going through it’? We’ve all been there for some reason right? I hate not feeling authentic. It really REALLY sucks. My girls have kept me grounded. Two little lights in the dark. Practising self-compassion has been key to inching forward, and I am finally gluing the pieces back together and destroying the pieces that no longer fit. I’m going to fill those damn holes with as much muchness as I can muster.
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