If only ya’ all could see…the mess. When you are in the healing, all the ugly tears, the food binges, the screaming, foot stomping, cussing like a sailor moments…good lord, you wouldn’t recognize me on those days, or maybe, maybe you would. Maybe you’d look at me, and see you! You would know me on a level of humanness, reserved for the healing.
I wish that we could see each other on those days, because these are the moments, knowing you are not alone, that make us one. Just remember, if you are feeling the ache, there’s another out there feeling her ache too. You are aching with a world of women, seeking expansion, growth, freedom…you are among friends, your sisters, yes…your tribe.
From The Book of She…
Healing is fucking messy. It’s alienation. It’s detachment. It’s batshit crazy. It’s jet-black inky darkness. It makes you ache for the void or the mundane. You want to quit everything, but you can’t. You won’t. Not now. Not ever, baby. Because even though it aches the mother of all aches, you’ve changed.
Underneath all the bullshit, there you are. Brand new. Born again. An angel awakened to her cosmic mission. And you aren’t going back. There are more out there, waking up in the dark. So don’t worry about fixing any part of you and let your wicked shambles raise the damn roof on this whole thing. -Tanya Markul, The She Book v. 2
I love you. I believe in your strength. You are held.