A drought in my eyes and a storm in my soul

“I’m not interested if it’s not easy.”

I said this out loud to a friend recently and then spent the next few weeks poking it from every angle, to be sure I meant it. Normally I wouldn’t just blurt something out without having already come to it’s conclusion on my own. I work most things out internally before they ever reach my mouth; but this bubbled up in the conversation we were having and I surprised myself with the sentiment.

I meant it then, also, but I kept coming back to it. Am I really not interested if it’s not easy? I still crave challenge and I’m allergic to the easy way out. I enjoy proving myself, being underestimated is the best drug I’ve ever had. The more I’ve mulled over it, the more I see it as a settling of something deep inside of me.

I am not striving for your approval anymore. I am free to be me. And, turns out, I’m easy. I like the flow of life, I love the turns she takes. I am all in on joy. Is it hard sometimes? Holy fucking shit, she’s terrible some days. But she isn’t torturing me and without knowing the deep sadness I’ve met in my life, the grief, the loss, the loneliness and the despair – I wouldn’t know joy by her name. I would know gladness (she’s good, too) but I wouldn’t fully recognize joy when she was near. She’s light. She’s the bubbles in champagne, the color pink in the sunrise, the soft belly of a newborn, she’s coming home (wherever that may be) after being gone and knowing in your bones, you’re where you’re supposed to be. She’s love, the safe and warm feeling of being in the company of people who know you. And also, the tantalizing yearn between your legs when you’re with someone who loves all of you, just because.

I’m not interested if it’s not easy.

If I have to bend in ways I don’t normally move in order to make you see me, I’m not interested. If I have to compromise what I hold most sacred to me to make you comfortable, I’m not interested. If I have to conform to your identity of who you think I am, I’m not interested. If you’re not available to listen, I won’t be talking. I definitely won’t be sharing. If I am, for any reason and at any time, feeling unsafe: I am not interested.

I want to be outside of my comfort zone: yes. I want to be flexible and willing to change: yes. I want to be open to criticism and challenges for growth: yes.

But I won’t grovel for the imaginary star of approval. I won’t stick around because “all that history” … some chapters end. I won’t be taken for granted, often. I will offer, I will love, I will show up, I will have hard conversations and I will ask to be seen – but I will not work harder than the sum of my gain.

Not anymore.

I’m not interested if it’s not easy.

Not because I don’t appreciate the tenacity and incredibly hard work that dedication takes. I am dedicated to few things, but important things. My energy is power, for me. I wield it with perseverance.

I feel dangerous. Kind of out of sorts. I feel exposed and like I’m always looking over my shoulder. I have demons in my past that just keep knocking. I’m in the middle of a personal crisis, a family crisis, and I feel tattered and little and afraid. I feel small. I am all-together too invested and entirely out of the circumstance. I want to scream the truth from the tops of every roof. I want to tell on all of the bad people. I want to protect my family, I want to protect my self.

But, I have to be honest, I’m weary. I am going to say it all out loud. I am going to fight for myself. I am going to be on the side of revolution. I will be on this side of heaven when I finally feel free. And I’m not interested if it’s not easy. Will it be hard? Absolutely. But I’ve decided that living on purpose isn’t actually HARD, it’s worth it.

I can’t keep our secrets anymore. There’s a drought in my eyes and a storm in my soul.

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