A declaration to my children:
I often think of past times. Who doesn’t? Its a story book constantly on play; some moments shining, while others dark, making you cover your eyes with your hands hoping to not see anything through the cracks.
I have been alive for 30 years. Many others fewer, or more. Regardless of the tally on my years, there is something I find, as a ribbon tying my entire past to my present and future: solitary. Every moment you see whether you’re pulling from the past or envisioning the future it’s through your eyes and your eyes alone. Your experience with yourself shall always and forever be only one perspective: yours.
There is an extreme amount of ownership that comes with being your only eyes. You are in charge of you, you are in control of you; environment will be what it may, other people will do as they will; You, my dear, are your treasures and dark alleys, all at your disposal. What an odd notion to sit with. Does it make you squirm back and forth, anxious with guilt or do you feel a wave of liberation rushing over you, freeing you from other perspectives you held close. No matter what that makes you feel, take out the trash.
The saying “you’ve made your bed, now you will lie in it?” well, it’s true. What you nuture around you, pay mind to, give your energies to, will grow and take root; at no fault to these things you’ve chosen; the fault, the responsibilities lies within you. So take out the trash, life is too short to destroy the road you walk, wash your sheets, make your bed, so when it comes time to lie, you took care of yourself, and have a clean place to rest.
I have come a thousand journeys from who I once was, and I’m almost certain I have thousands more; But I am at a pinnacle, an unstoppable momentum; I have three pieces of my heart walking around not knowing what keepsake I have given them. They are my words, my mind, my purpose. How I protect this newfound reckoning of not giving a flying shit what other people see when doing so, is something I am forever grateful for; to my children. Not everyone needs what I needed; To be unshackled from who you once were and molded yourself to based on things that truly did not hold value is… rescuing. They rescued me. It took time, and hard work on my part but to them, I owe everything. I owe my life beginning as I stepped and grew into motherhood, a look I was not always sure I would wear; but if I say so myself, It’s a one of a kind, red carpet, hall of fame, retired jersey type of look for me. It’s my best self, that only gets better as I fall harder and harder. The mistakes and growing up with my children are something I cannot simply put to words.
I took out the damn trash when my rescuers arrived, and the world is better for it, I’m better for it.
Stop waiting. Stop wanting more and then watering the very things that hold you where you are. Grow, stretch, find your look and wear it well, with pride. Take out the trash and don’t look back, excess is a heavy burden, one even the greats partake in seasonal shedding; allow yourself this, allow yourself more, better; find what makes your perspective full, and worthy of a clean bed when you lay to rest. Each look is unique and the journey to the trash can is different to all, but I beg of you fight to get there and when you figure out how to run, do it; even if you stumble on some uneven ground, falling is what makes the standing up feel taller.
Look around, fill that trash can, and give your self the strength to pick that shit up, and toss it like the badass you are.