I’ve spent so much of my life being things for other people. A mother, a daughter, a caretaker, a guide, a business owner. The person who holds everything together.
But what I’m feeling lately is something different.
I’m finding myself at 56 – and as I write this I am immediately aware that this sentence is edging far too close to the aisle with the “Live Laugh Love” signs in the Hobby Lobby.
And – it’s also true. When you wake up having lived with stage 4 cancer for the last six years, it rearranges your mental and emotional furniture. The ground I’m standing on has shifted.
I’m finding out who I am when all of the noise of being a person focused on succeeding as a woman in a system not designed for her flourishing falls away (Aka: Patriarchy).
Not trying to squeeze myself into some tidy little box designed for someone else’s comfort, but giving myself permission to be the woman I’ve been all along.
The bookish, intuitive, occasionally furious, deeply compassionate woman who loves beauty and mystery and has absolutely no intention of becoming more palatable with age.
