These days, it’s the starting that’s the hard part. Once I’m going along on a task or project or activity, whether it’s for work or pleasure or both, I am fine (and usually wonder why it took me so long to get going). I wonder why that is. Why the getting going is hard, even for something I truly want to do and know I’ll enjoy doing?
Some of us still curl in our cocoons, waiting for our time to be right. We can now see both the butterflies, free and saving us all, but we can also see the raging worms. We know we want to be a butterfly, but it is tempting to escape early. To stay as we were. Because at least the worms are out there, in the world, not enclosed with only their thoughts and dreams and despairs and anger and fear.
The difference between being in immediate survival mode and a more sustainable survival mode, and the grief we need to allow ourselves to experience to move from one to the other.
We cannot skip this limbo stage. We cannot jump from old to new without a period of transition, which can become a period of metamorphosis if we only let it.
So the pressure is a bully, reminding me that, no matter what, I am a failure. And it tells me that what I AM doing isn’t enough.
This movement is not about white people. We are supporters and allies. We are not the movement.
Instead of reading my words today, please consider those of BIPOC writing about what is going on right now. Start with these two actions.
Sometimes, the only thing that will move a desire along is by adopting a motto.
What it feels like to not feel like doing the things I want to do.
There is nothing I desire from life that will come by filling my time with shoulds and busyness.
