In December, I packed up all of my belongings, hugged my cat, and said goodbye to my partner, the future we were building, a life I thought I wanted.
Now I’m in Malaysia.
It hasn’t been easy.
I’ve been fighting tooth and nail to make it all mean something. Pushing and digging to make sense of myself and my decisions and to try to feel okay with how I feel.
Amidst all the pushing, I discovered something else along the way.
The poem of the week is: Moving the Flag
I said, yes I’ll do it. Send me to move the flag. I could already imagine waving this message of victorious certainty. But I find myself stuck halfway up a greased pole the flag hanging limply before the taunting sky. Paranoid hands grip and struggle searching for some trusted traction, so much toil to gain an inch and then lose it. The birds are laughing. No one said it would be easy but this is a setup, I swear it. My stubborn heart sweats and spits gives up and starts again, again. so it is, I’ll show you. Finally, the flag is within reach I swat at the fabric, it unfolds clear eyes now see white opening against the blue sky.
Gorgeous, both the poem and watercolor 🤍
Woof. First of all I'm struck by your general courage 🫶🏻. also (and always) i am BLOWN away by your poetry and art. You're so damn good. It's so inspiring to me. Thanks for sharing the way you do :)