Because (It Takes a Village)

I woke up on Friday morning with a smile. Iʻd slept in, I felt refreshed, I was content. And then that smile, without preamble or ado, turned into crying. At the time, I couldnʻt have told you why, though it eventually became clear that, for whatever reason, I lacked emotional and mental defenses that day. I was raw and empty and every little challenge rubbed my heart and brain the wrong way.

Until I reached out and then my whole day changed. It wasnʻt even noticeable to me at first that Iʻd stopped crying and stopped feeling like something big and sweaty and disgusting was sitting on my chest. Not until hours later did it occur to me that Iʻd actually had a pretty fucking decent day. Iʻd had a great day! It was a surprisingly beautiful day.

Because Iʻd had the courage to reach out.

Found this in the trunk 2 weeks ago. The universe has spoken.

 
This was significant. Not a first, but certainly noteworthy. Certainly encouraging. Definitely meaningful. Of course I journaled.

While writing, I marveled at how amazing my friends are. How warm and reliable. At the beginning of the summer I thought I needed to make new friends who would adventure with me because this would be a season of surfing, creating, and playing. Then, as I began to reconnect with some of you and strengthen bonds with others of you, I realized Iʻd already had what I needed: friends who surf, create, and play; people who love me and whom I love.

The missing ingredient was trust. I didnʻt trust myself, which made (makes) trusting others even harder.

So, Iʻm journaling, right?  Iʻm writing about the incredible closeness I feel to the souls around me. The ones who allow me to rest when Iʻm weary. Who remind me, not so much with words but with companionship, that Iʻm capable and resilient. Who remind me Iʻm not alone. I wrote, "maybe the increased feeling of closeness is birthed from feeling/owning my authenticity. b/c i can interact more authentically, the connection i feel in turn also feels more authentic?"

And as Iʻm journaling-- more a freewrite than anything else-- it hits me like the fucking shore break at Sandys: is this what trusting myself feels like? Is this what confidence feels like? Self-love? "holy shit," I wrote, "thatʻs a new thought, new feeling, new concept!"

This summer was supposed to be about surfing, creating, and playing. And it was. I surfed and created and played. I also discovered so much about myself and rediscovered what it was to have friends again. Really have friends. And the more I opened up to them, the more I trusted them, I was surprised to learn that my friends? They support and love me, they donʻt judge me, and often were harboring similar feelings and experiences that they hadnʻt shared, either. We connected.

And the more that happened, I somehow started learning to trust myself. I was proving my own resiliency to myself. By trusting others, I demonstrate my strength and confidence, even if I donʻt always feel it in those moments. Itʻs a feedback loop that looks nothing like I expected.

My vulnerabilities may seem like weakness to you-- it felt that way to me for most (all?) of my life, and it sometimes (often?) still does. But every time I reach out to you, every time I confide in you, whether or not you give me the support or encouragement I seek, itʻs a win. Because each time you catch me, each time you listen, each time you sit in this space with me, you become more intricately woven into the tapestry of this journey, my life. You show me how good it feels to trust. And each time Iʻm dismissed, laughed at, or ignored, I still see how strong and resilient I am because, though it always feels good to feel seen, I donʻt need your permission or approval to feel what I feel. My vulnerabilities make me human, which means Iʻm sometimes really uncomfortable, but Iʻm okay with that. Dealing with my challenges as an imperfect human is something I can be proud of.

This summer was a success. I didnʻt quite accomplish everything I wanted to, but I learned a lot about myself, expanded my village, and deepened connections. I cried less, laughed more. I looked into your eyes. We sang to each other, walked together, shared pain and joy. I danced and wrote a bunch. We shared intimate moments that I never before thought possible. And I am eternally grateful for you. I am where I am today because I am flawed and amazing. Iʻm also here because of you and our friendship.

Never gonna grow up.