January 19, 2022
I started 2022 disoriented and lost. Almost as if I was unwillingly strapped to the teacups at Disney World for a miserably long and aggressive ride, then told to solve a Rubik’s cube in under a minute as soon as the ride was finished.
I’ve found myself staring at the wall far too long when trying to execute ideas,
and feeling like my dreams are almost too heavy to carry anymore.
I’ve spent a lot of time chastising myself out of desperation to fix it, make anything happen, find any sort of surfaced clarity while also refusing to show up inauthentically.
2021 was more traumatic than I’ve fully accepted it to be. There were multiple bombs detonated resulting in more relational casualties in a year than I’ve experienced in the last 10 combined.
Of course I can’t hear direction, my ears are still ringing.
Of course I’m walking in circles, the smoke is still clearing.
The damage is still being assessed.
I’m still checking myself and those around me for bleeding, and I’m pretty sure one of my emotional legs was blown off.
You might feel the same way. Maybe we’re unknowingly standing on the same torched earth.
So now what? Where do we go from here?
I’ll have to get back to you. Clarity and purpose haven’t surfaced yet because we can’t see shit or distinguish voices, and we’re still working to stop the bleeding.
But you know, stopping the bleed is a crucial first step,
so that means we’re making progress.
And that’s enough for me.
Let’s talk about it. Join the conversation.
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