What if she’s the one who can see the authentic me, and I cannot? What if I can be vulnerable and open and real and all those things and still be seen as having my shit together? Like those aren’t diametrically opposed views? That being vulnerable doesn’t have to equal “hot mess.” That perhaps it’s _my_ definition of “put together” that needs to change, not hers.
I don’t see it as hyperbole to say we’re looking at the end of the world as we know it. We can either drive that change to ensure future generations thrive, or we can dumbly be carried along with change and then wonder what happened.
balancing feeling protected with feeling restricted
I have returned from a place that isn’t real, and yet is a place I am the most real version of me. I spent Memorial Day weekend returning to Wilder: a place I first ventured one year ago. Wilder is a women’s writing and running camp, curated and organized and gently held by Lauren Fleshman.… Continue reading Latent Lollygagger: Being Real
Balancing the buzzing mind