Paris Street Art

It’s not easy for me to look at my stuff–the way I confuse myself by denying some part of what I feel–my fear mostly–and I start to blame someone or something else, or look for an escape route.  When really I have to just own that change is scary. As much as I tell myself it will be easier, there’s a part of me who is inside screaming, “No it won’t!  It’s always sucked.  It will always suck.” And on and on with feelings that don’t have words.  Feelings that are both true (in that they’re a response to something from long ago) and false (in that they aren’t really about what’s happening now).

But then I recover, and remember that I’m just growing and changing as all things do.  I wonder if the flower bud feels like, “oh, I know it’s just never going to happen.” And then I see the ridiculousness of my thinking and can almost laugh at it.