I’ve never been more aware of the storm inside. But I have to go through this. I flit around because standing still is poison to me. The second I stand still I cling hard and take root and it’s a whole fucking excavation to get me out. I get comfortable too fast, too easily. I buy the same foods. I wear the same colours. Go to the same places.
I want stability, I crave a home, a nest. Familiarity and safety and calm. But the other side of me will only be happy if I see more and be more. And grow in ways I couldn’t have without venturing out from under the ground so I can see the sky and the stars so high up I’ll never reach but I have to try. It unsettles me so terribly not seeing an end to this climb but I chose this.
There’s always the easy option. The mediocre option. You’ve surpassed it already, can’t you see? Stop beating yourself up. This climb is your adventure. The stability you crave will come, in 5 years. 10 years. 20 maybe. You could have had it before but how the fuck will you climb if you insist on keeping your feet firmly planted on the ground. Don’t be silly girl. You know this. It will come someday but now you keep climbing those walls and trees and ladders. Flit, jump. Take a breather if you must but not for too long, don’t take root before you’re ready. You never were. You’re still growing.
I still dream of the fairytale ending they told us all as children but I know it’s not real. There is no happily ever after. It’s a false stability I dream of. The story doesn’t end, it’s an adventure, a struggle, a fight. I know I have the strength to fight in me. I know I’m capable of so much more. But the fantasies still live. The fantasies call at me when I grow tired. They grab at my feet the moment I stop climbing. The moment I rest.
That fairytale stability is my quicksand. It sucks me in. I forget about the ladder, the climb. I don’t grow. I just grow content staying put. I’m not ready to stop growing. So I have to deny myself that fairytale of a put-together life, with predictability and roots and ties calling me pulling me into the quicksand of the past and you know what I was holding myself back. I wanted more I wanted better I needed more. I lied to myself. I succumbed to the fairytale. The quicksand took me in but I’m out now so please girl don’t stop you did good. You’re doing good. Keep climbing. Go slow if you must, but don’t you dare give up.
You’ll outgrow that fairytale someday soon. That’s the day standing still stops being your poison. The day you’re done building your own stability you’ll have something so much better than this quicksand that you’ll never succumb again.