are we there yet

shyly words come tumbling onto this page. I am not sure what to share. There's a deep whisper in me, share your heart, it says. I scoff inwardly. Oh heart, you don't know a thang about the world.

Yet I sit here, waiting as the words flow through me. It's hard to open up. To expose oneself to strangers, laying my open heart, my mind, my soul in the hands of my dear readers.

 
 

Sharing honestly is what I used to, in times when the walls came towards me in the dark. It was my sanctuary when I didn't know where to turn next in heartache. But I stopped, because I feel like I need to protect myself. There has been a lot of work in the past years, heartache and soulache. With people whom I trusted and they made me feel untrustworthy in return. People with whom I served to fight for a greater good. During it all I stopped being true to myself in order to bend and make myself fit for others. Then life happened, sickness and a baby. I feel exhausted.

The glimmer of creativity sits inside of me. Always. Most times I push it aside. Telling it, there's no room in my mind to play. Although my soul says otherwise. Oh mind, you don't know a thang about myself.

So, I sit here. Words flow onto the page. I feel lighter, more visible. More myself. This is a vow so things have to change. More room for creativity, more room for stillness. My soul and heart rejoice. Slowly I creep back to be true to myself again and see that *this* is the only way to go.