I can’t write to you.
I can’t write solutions.
Each of us has a different way to live and there are not enough carbs (or wine) within the seven continents for me to make such an invasive move of arrogance.
However, I can write from a life lived.
I can write from my truths released from outstretch arms (pardon the excess skin waving in the wind - I like pizza), skinned knees brought to you by falling hard on my ass, or the locking of knees that won’t bend to bullshit (I was She-Ra in a previous life).
It just means I have to be that really hard (and yes, slightly buzzy) word - vulnerable. Exposure can be terrifying yet freeing in the same breath. And I’m not talking about being all the shades vulnerable only with others.
How often do we ladies avoid looking at our own bodacious naked body in the mirror? Choosing to expose yourself to yourself is some of the most courageous ground to take root and rise from.
Maybe we need more people sharing from their own lived truths instead of peddling solutions like a 1990's online televangelist.
Maybe we need more people who say “I picked up a paintbrush and made this when life got shitty and now life feels a little less shitty”.
Maybe we need more people who say “I picked up a laptop and released the words that were getting crushed in my ribcage and now I can breath a little easier".
Maybe if more us revealed our daily movements of wrestling, resting, and rising through the wild of it all, we will one day be able to burn all these damn pedestals we're tripping over and simply link arms as we glory in each other’s tenacity to be seen as we live.
Now who is ordering the pizza? I got the wine.