Just. Push. Go.

I need to start, but I don’t know how.

Frozen.

Fear.

I really want to.
I make the moves.
I do the things.

But when it’s time to finish, I freeze.

Just. Press. Go.

My body does not move.

My thoughts are full of doubt.

“Not done.”
Not ready.
Not enough substance.
Too much substance.
This isn’t right.
This is stupid.   I am terrified. 

There it is.

I. Am. Terrified.

Terrified of what?

Terrified of what I can’t foresee, what I can’t prepare for.
Will there be more heartache than I can handle?

The life that I’ve built is so peaceful.
A bubble – my bubble.

Will it burst?

—

I know all too well that once everything changes, it doesn’t go back.

Too many things uncovered.
Perspective broadens, perception expands.
And just like that…
The inner system has changed.

I am never the same.

—

Beautiful memories dance between moments that broke my spirit.
I remain grateful for the reminders of the good, but there’s a part of me that stays braced.
I never know which one is coming.
Am I breathing or holding my breath?

—

The moments that broke my spirit required a lot of goodbyes.

No matter how hard I try, there is no mistaking the feeling that tells me this part is over.
Whether I accept it or not, what once was is no more.
That version of my life, and that version of myself, is done.

And no matter how many good moments I have, that understanding lives in my body.
I don’t know another way.
I cannot force myself to feel happy.

—

Happiness is hard.

Saying goodbye to people that were once my entire world… the best parts of my day, my favorite senses… that part doesn’t get easier for me.

Every goodbye shatters me.

I cannot unknow this grief.
My foundation is built on grief.
But it is also built on love.

—

That’s the part about love.
It opens the door for heartache.

Deep, irreplaceable love – the kind that fills you on a cellular level…
those experiences bring the greatest highs I have ever felt.

In those moments, I feel how blessed I am.
I soak it in.

But a quiet part of me stays aware.
It’s subtle, almost unnoticeable, but it’s there.
It’s always there, peeking over the edge, understanding just how far I can fall.

Fear.

I might be a long way from rock bottom,
but the one thing I am sure of,
and have learned time and time again,
is that somehow-  there’s always farther to fall.                                  There is always more to learn. 

Nothing is ever safe.

—

To me, change means letting go.
Letting go of who I was and everything that came with it.

Not everything leaves, but everything becomes new.
Life moves.
People move with it.

—

I know loss.
I know grief.
It’s happiness that’s hard.

The bigger the love, the harder the loss.
The happier I feel, the more vulnerable I am.
The more peace I hold, the more devastation I invite.

Logically, I know this isn’t the way to think.
Logically, I know I can reroute it.
Logically, I do.

But it’s not the logical side that I struggle with.
Logic allows me to make the moves.

It’s the body that says no.
It’s the body that says I’m not ready.
It’s the body that says slow down.

Is this real?
Is this fear?
Which one do I listen to?

Do I move and regret?
Do I stop and never start again?

Do I press go?
Do I let everything change?
If I don’t, will life force me anyway?

It will. It always does.

I have to press go.

If I don’t press go, I will never do it.

I’ll think about it.
I’ll dream about it.
I’ll see it in others – what I would have been.

A version of my dream I can only watch through others.

—

I have to press go.

Everything could shatter.
Everything could shine.

Either way, I have to trust that I will find my way.

Things haven’t been easy.
This feels uncertain.

Yet I know, with every piece of me,

I have to press go.

 I have to shine.