I’ve spent so much of my life shrinking, contorting, and breaking myself into pieces to “fit” the way the world or other people expect.
Tucking myself into the open spaces they felt I fit inside when they never really took who I am and what I want into account.
Personally and professionally.
In relationships and communities.
To “get by” in a world that favors conformity.
While I’ve been doing the work to come home to myself since my early twenties, it’s only continued to intensify. Much of my work this past year has been excavating the deepest, truest parts of myself. The pieces that have always been there at my core but got buried by so many other things. It’s been setting boundaries, raising the bar across the board, and fiercely committing to my joy in all the ways that feel most like me.
This process has been exhausting, liberating, expansive, and heartbreaking. It’s cracked me open over and over in ways I wasn’t expecting, right when I thought I had a clear sense of how things would go.
But that’s the gig.
That’s what happens when we commit to showing up fully expressed and wholly actualized in this life. We’re always growing and outgrowing, walking through death and rebirth, and iterating inside ourselves and our lives.
It’s a mess, and I love it.