All is quiet

It's been quiet around these here parts.

I've been struggling. A lot.

I've realised it doesn't take much to tip the scales. I guess I've always been a fragile little thing. That may come as a surprise to many of you. I inhabit the outward persona of a fierce warrior Mama, ready to defend her kids, stand up for herself and not take too much bullshit. Truth is, all that's a facade, erected to protect the very insecure mouse - type creature that lives within.

Fact.

There have been some things that have happened lately that have done more than slightly tip the scales. They've kind of up ended them, swung them around a few times and hurled them into the wide, blue beyond. It's taking me a while to set them right again....and I've entertained some dark thoughts.

Some people in my actual life wonder why I expose my vulnerabilities so publicly on a blog. Some of them feel uncomfortable; reading their own parts in my story as I write, feeling exposed, even though I carefully and mindfully make sure I keep their stories out of my writing. Their stories are, after all, their stories and I have no right to write them.

So I don't.

It wasn't until I saw Caroline Bowditch's show Falling in love with Frida a couple of weeks ago that I saw the power of owning and telling one's own story in whatever way one chose to tell it. There, on stage and in front of an audience, my friend Caroline told her story in as much detail as she wanted. There were things that I'd heard whispers of...but there she was, telling the stories in all their glorious truths, in her own words, in her own way.

And I felt empowered to do the same.

Tell your story Leisa. Tell your story and own it. For too long others have done it for you and mashed it up to a pulpy mess.

Tell it so that you have power in the words.

As an avid reader of blogs and other people's stories I am constantly in awe of people who tell their warts and all tales and own them. I read myself in their words and I realise that I am not alone and adrift in this sea that sometimes threatens to take me away. There are others who wrestle with the same demons in the same darkness...and in telling their stories, in exposing themselves so openly, so honestly, they show me that no matter how dark it gets, I'm not alone and that things will eventually be ok.

So that's why I write like this. Because you might be reading this and you might just want to read those five most hopeful words:

"YOU'RE GOING TO BE OK!"

You might be a person with dwarfism and you might need to read the story of another short statured person who, even though she is loved and healthy and happy-ish and has accepted herself and her condition, would take that magic cure in a heartbeat if she could.

Because I would.

And that's OK!  That's my story. It's ok to feel this. It's not ok to deny it and feel bad for feeling it. I haven't "let the side down".  It's my truth.

My truth today is that I'm struggling.  I'm sad and grieving intensely for a life I thought I had and a life I always wanted ever since I was a little girl. Sometimes there is no happily ever after,  no matter how much you might want it and work for it. Sometimes you have to know when to stop working and just let it go.

The fight has gone out in this petite warrior and she now just has to feel all the feels and work out where to go from here.