Are you well, my loves? #writeme30

 

Nestled, into folded waves/ we are each of us, islands/ in this shared deep sea//

 

The Photo:

                             Photo supplied by Jamin Heppell

 

The Response:

 

It’s a slippery place.

Space.

Well.

Deep.

Deeper still than fear.

Than hope.

Wellness.

Getting better.

 

My year 8 home group teacher wrote in my end of year report card “No man is an island”. That’s all. No other comment, no suggestions for improvement. Just those five words, “No man is an island”.

So I asked what does that mean? What are you telling me?

“You can’t do everything alone. No one can. Sometimes we have to ask for help.”

 

Well then.

 

Apparently I learn my lessons slowly.

But this isn’t a post about that.

 

We lean ourselves into these loves/

Slowly, sometimes/

Spiraling wildly and overwhelmingly/

Others/

FUCK/

Here we are now/

Tied/

Into futures/

Pasts/

Presents/

Maybes/

Trulys/

Possibilities/

 

And the light on my phone blinks quickly. Not quickly enough. I leave it on silent because I love you too much to say no. I never learnt how to turn the notifications off. But I always say no when they ask. It feels hot in my hands. The screen shiny and reflecting the colours of SimCity:BuildIt into my over tired eyes. I’m escaping. From myself. From you.

I’m running from a white house with interior blue walls that feel cold when I remember them but never were when I was there. I’m running from a little girl who was more afraid of succeeding than failing.

Failing is just expected. Succeeding creates an expectation you can never fulfill.

 

EVER.

 

I didn’t realize that girl was still in me. Still whispering her fears and her doubts and her please don’t let me outs. That girl who is afraid to shine. To fall. To fly. Too afraid to ask why (out loud) in powerful halls to people wearing suits. I didn’t realize how we’d fold into one another forever and ever and ever and that I would ALWAYS have to be on guard for the sneaky little voice that says ‘You are not enough. You will never be enough’.

 

We dance together/

You and I/

Your eyes smiling into mine/

My hair tangled in your fingernails/

Rusty on my shoulders/

I am laughing/

No sound comes out/

You are shouting/

The whole world can hear/

Everyone is watching/

They all know/

I…/

 

STOP IT

Stop it.

You are precious. You are loved. You are beautiful.

This is what it feels like to be alive.

Messy. Hard. Confusing. Painful. Precious.

So precious.

I’m here.

 

I’m here.

 

The Contributor:

 

This #writeme30 photo was provided by the beautiful Jamin.

Jamin is many precious things. Among those things he is the personal trainer and footy boy who gives me hope for a sporting culture that respects and embraces diversity in all its forms through his amazing work. Check it out here.

We met through Foundation for Young Australian’s Young Social Pioneer Program. We were the last group in YSP’s current form, but you can check out and get involved with the evolution of YSP here. It’s a special tribe, which I am grateful to be a small part of.