The Stretch

I had the urge to burn this part of me down. The feeling was fleeting, but something in me wanted to erase the record of who I used to be. I came to my site with the thought of deactivating it. Remembering can be so heavy. 

I’ve had a dull, but constant fear of returning here. If I were to get past the urge to raze this place, what would I say? I had to come back with a bang. I had to sum up every peak and valley that got me here. I had to explain myself. And it had to be perfect. I had to get the words right, folding in precise portions of eloquence and hard truth. It had been too long for anything less. 

Just as quickly as the urge came it left, and was replaced by the urge to nurture. I considered planting here, running my fingers through the soil of this space. Watering it. Replenishing it. Showing myself the grace that my therapist mentions as often as I forget it.

I give myself permission to change and grow, holding space for the girl who got me here. Consider this the long yawn and stretch before I settle into this space again.

Yours for now, 

Roco