Anxiety is the cloak I wrap myself in and worry is the path I trudge along. It’s been that way ever since I can remember. Bare and plain and complicated. Washes over me without warning and leaves me prone, wondering what it is I did that got me here. Like a push and pull, I struggle with the abject bleakness of how I so easily fall into the prickly parts—the harsh and parched parts of myself that manifest as what would otherwise seem as malnourished. But in lighter moments I recognize the beauty of hibernation. The wisdom of raw, clear beingness from time to time and in those moments I’m free for a while. In those moments I’m full up with the anticipation of when I will be flourishing and vibrant again.
Yours In All That Continues the Wondering,