"I’ve been a hot, tender, sensitive and moody mess for the last few weeks.
With moments and days, between, of complete normalness.
If I could, I would have likely spent many of those days in the quiet of myself, writing about bits of brokenness and listening to songs like Girl Crush.
I feel like a concoction of new beginnings and endings, but mostly of confusing middles.
Space is some sort of visceral craving of mine that motherhood and marriage doesn’t allow.
The act of tending to the self is quite a feat when each foot placed on the ground is cemented in family.
Sometimes it’s a given, sometimes it feels stolen, and sometimes – like lately – it feels foreign.
I’ve been living in my head a lot lately; my heart full of feelings that can’t lead or follow or find.
I’ve misplaced trust, all while holding tight to it, and found myself searching for forced unfoldings.
I’ve felt slayed over and over again by motherhood and sand papered by marriage.
Falling asleep to the rain, the other night, I felt certain that most headaches must be stuck tears.
Aching heads are a rarity for me, and the tears flowed the next day.
Days are busy with the tasks of mothering and home and a life well lived, and I am both lost and living fully in the needs of everyone I love to the bones, the blood, the spirit.
I keep looking for myself under layers and layers of simplification.
My clothing has been thinned to less than 50 items. My hair has been cut 8 inches.
I’ve cleared my inboxes. Burned my cut hair and pages and pages of lists. Donated 5 more bags of outgrown this-n-that to the thrift store.
I’ve painted my bathroom white, un-followed everyone on Instagram, and let Over the Moon mag know I wouldn’t be writing for them for awhile.
I’m nesting for a birth of myself.
My parents’ recent visit, full and good, made the missing of them all the more hard and real.
Stuffed tears always waiting to grieve what we miss in each others lives.
I feel wounded in some sweet way, wishing to find myself pumped in motivation or soft in the transitory awareness that life is.
But, instead, I sit in a middle place, ebbing and flowing back and forth. Back and forth.
Not entirely any one thing; moving in and out like afternoon thunderstorms in between sunshine.
This is the longest I’ve let my blog sit without my words, since I began sharing myself here.
My words feel like they are for me right now, mostly because I don’t know what the hell they mean.
So, I wonder and I ask, will you wait for me?
Uncertain whether my quiet will stalk this space for weeks longer or words will water this screen sometime soon…will you wait for me?"
~ Falan
Read more of Falan's heart filled writing here: http://falanstorm.com
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