I have a confession: I hate being real. I am so much more comfortable with abstraction. I like nuances and subtleties and question marks. I want to connect, at least, I think I do, but I struggle to navigate this world. My comfort zone is filled with yoga pants and coffee and beaches and the closest of friends. These are my safe havens, my armor against the world, but I risk nothing in these places. Truth be told, people scare the daylights out of me. Am I the only one? How many of us fake bravery in the light of day in order to wrestle our way through unknown fields, hoping to miss the landmines?
It is so hard to trust one another, but I hope to set a precedent. I hope to form a place where people can heal, where people can be honest and where you can find some space to breathe. I know what it’s like to want those havens, to crave them. Fear and I have walked a long path together, but we’re slowly learning to part ways; not as enemies, but as lovers once who formed in pain.
Safe havens come in many forms, but I hope they can begin to come from our honesty and our shared humanity. We are in this together, after all. Wouldn’t life be so much more lovely if all our beauties were found in the truth of our pain? I think that’s where all the glory is, the triumph of living: overcoming what has tried to hold us down. This is me saying, “Here’s to all our messy pieces; may we wave them bravely and teach others to do the same.”
Love each other, valiantly,