I don’t know when I clocked it exactly … but I knew I hadn’t actually been … THINKING. JAKNOWIMEAN?
I hadn’t journalled in forever. I hadn’t allowed myself to be vulnerable, and I don’t remember when I stopped. Sometimes I sit and wonder if I’d actually thought, and felt … and I haven’t, not in a while.
Is it because there’s nothing to feel? Is it because I know I’m on survival mode, and that allowing myself to think and feel would not lead me to a good place? Is it because I know I’m not strong enough yet to be vulnerable again?
So I did what any person would do in this case … I took in the epiphanies in microdoses, and I’d like to share them with you.
First things first … I am cute as herk — that alone is worth celebrating.
I noticed that a flock of birds were all following a man, and it took two minutes for me to realise he was actually feeding them.
For over two years I believed that the world only knows cruelty with all the death and destruction appearing on my feed + timeline on a daily basis, and it felt pretty surreal to see a legitimate act of kindness with my own two eyes.
I walked the whole way through with a smile on my face.
… but isn’t it insane knowing we are capable of all this kindness, and people consciously make the decision to take the extremely opposite route?
Doing the most mundane things have brought me so much joy this month. I was gifted my very own washing machine and gas range, and I realised how much of this has positively affected my mental health. I get to do normal things. I get to experience chucking clothes in the wash, I get to experience making my own meals again … I didn’t realise how much normalcy could be so grounding.
I washed all my clothes by hand for 9 years — when I have the extra budget, I actually send them over to Washmen (my fave) — Carlo gifted us with a washing machine for moving into the new apartment (a housewarming gift), and my Ramia got the gas range.
It’s been so refreshing to have two more ways to shower myself with (self) love. Caring for myself by doing the laundry and making my own food are definitely self-care rituals. How fortunate am I to never look at these things as chores, because they aren’t (and shouldn’t be)?
There’s a perfect Saturday I want to summarise in two photos cos I currently CBA to write about it.
I think a lot of this month made me feel like I’m grasping for the reality I conditioned myself to believe, if that makes sense.
Little by little, I am remembering what it’s like to breathe. To be comfortable. To unclench my jaw and fists. To not be scared of what’s outside my building, lol.
But so much of that is also tied to me letting go. Just … letting go. And I don’t know how to feel about that. There are things I’ve been struggling to look at as ‘real’. The old part of me is worried, and the healing part tells me that there really is nothing to worry about, because … things are the way they are for a reason, and that worrying about this is such an old way of life. I was in survival mode for so long, I forgot that that’s no longer my reality. I’m no longer there, literally and figuratively.
I thrived in chaos for so long, I find the quiet challenging to accept, to embrace.
Does this make sense to you?
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