As I sit here this morning I am overflowing with awarenesses. I feel words seeping out of my pores and filling the space around me. The air is so thick with them that I am holding them in my hands. Frankly, there are so many words that I can never hope to capture them all – and yet I know I have to try.
Their truth is at the same time overwhelming and astonishing. Life-affirming. Rescuing. But I have to capture at least a number of them to understand them, absorb them. And the others? Those I try and sit with, slowly letting them absorb unseen – like a heavy rain slowly percolating into the ground.
As an experience, this does happen – it’s not brand new, but it’s been a little while. It’s a beautiful, graceful, awe-inspiring and privileged experience – a coming together of hundreds of micro-learnings. An alchemy of things experienced, seen, read and understood. Magic.
In the past couple of weeks I’ve taken up watching Netflix’s Queer Eye. I remember it from the first time around as a ‘makeover’ show but this new rendition is so much more than that. I’ve felt it touching my heart over and over again – at times sending me into tears. Its fundamental message is one of acceptance. Of understanding. Of unconditional love. And while these are things I believe in so hard that it’s almost painful, rightly or wrongly I spent a long time believing them to be inaccessible to myself.
Somehow I acquired the belief that to be acceptable to the world, you needed to conform to the expectations of those around you. Well let me tell you wholeheartedly that this is NOT TRUE.
But knowing something and embodying that knowledge are two different things – and while I’ve known it intellectually now for some time I still today am learning to embody it.
Which brings me back to today. I’ve been let down this week in a very familiar way, but in a way that I haven’t experienced since we went into lockdown. The space of lockdown however has made it abundantly clear that today I can choose to play this out in a different way – I can, and will, advocate for myself, shouting from the rooftops that this is not ok.
Because I know in this moment that I am more than just enough – I am exceptional. And, in the same way that I will not stand for others being made small, I myself am not to be made small either. No matter what lessons I’ve previously taught myself to the contrary
And you know what else? I know in this moment that I can also do other things that life has over time told me I cannot – I can draw. I can dance. I can write. I can be my quirky, sensitive and, yes, perhaps slightly odd self and make the world a better place for it.
I can and will continue to process my own self-realisation publicly – in the knowledge that somewhere along the way it helps someone else too.
Which segues neatly into my final realisation – around the struggle I’ve had with stepping up to work in a space that’s been calling me for an age. I broached the idea of a journalling offer with students a couple of weeks ago, but I can feel the lingering doubt in my mind that I have the authority to do so. It feels like a big step outside of my comfort zone and (literally) as I write I realise why… I’ve not been told that this is something I can do. Instead it is very much borne of my own artistry, my own vision, my own creative soul. It is me – and that is scary.
And yet. Journalling is quite simply one of my most powerful tools – allowing what I feel in my body, what I feel today in the air, to be expressed and seen. To be seen and realised. To be acknowledged and put to bed. Which makes sharing this work an embodiment of my learning that I need not be afraid, I need not be alone, I need not be anything but myself.
So I say it again, largely for the benefit of myself, it is one of my most powerful tools. And I take the hand of the little girl inside of me who is still very much afraid, and encourage her to be brave.