Breathing Beauty

“…it's fuck everything else, until you have the room to breathe beauty again.” – H, my own personal rock star guru

I sat down to write today’s post and found nothing. Like, literally, nothing. Since I’ve started this project my mind has been a swirl with so many ideas that most days I have to parse them out to find one upon which to focus. But this morning? Nothing. Utterly and completely drained of all creativity and notion. It was disconcerting to say the least.

So, I turned to H of course. Because he always bails me out and sets me back afloat in a better direction than that from which I came. I threw every excuse in the book at him, but the main one was that my husband was home. And I didn’t know how to keep walking in this journey with him here. That I was getting really good at doing it by myself and then he came home and threw me for a loop. It’s always easier to look to my environment and who happens to be coexisting in it with me, than to look at my own ulterior motives.

But in all reality, it’s me that tying my own hands. Veiling my own creativity. It’s only me that is in the way. And bogging myself down with “I don’t knows” and “I don’t think I can write what’s real anymores.” It’s infuriating really. Because I’ve worked my ass off the last month to get as free as I was and then without even realizing, without even thinking about it, I slapped cuffs on both wrists and swallowed the key.

It has always been me. Whether that be convincing myself that I was broken in some way, standing still for some imagined reason or strangling my own creative voice in an effort to fit in.

And so now I have to figure out how to wiggle out of my own self-imposed bondage and just be free. Regardless of who is sharing my bed or my coffee. Regardless of fear, guilt or distraction. I have to put it all down and walk away. Into my own sunrise and sunset. Into my own future.