I’m on that “new year, new me” bullshit hard right now, but I’m a little afraid to talk about something. There’s something real big, and kind of scary that’s been on my mind.
It’s funny, because my guess is that it’s only real big to me because it’s scary in a new sort of way, and it’s entirely possible that you will not actually think it’s real big. In fact, you will most likely not think it’s a big deal.
I know I’ve been vulnerable as fuck on Clo Bare, but this is a new level of vulnerability for me.
I just hit the year mark with Clo Bare!
Crazy, right? That went by fast, and it also feels like forever ago when I blindly decided to embark on this journey.
This last year has been a lot of things. It’s been full of rediscovering myself and coming to terms with hard truths in order to get closer to the person that I want to be. It’s been filled with changes, aches and pains, growth, stretching, tears, confusion, uncertainty, and ultimately lots of experimentation.
It hasn’t been easy.
It hasn’t been quick.
It hasn’t been straight forward or prescriptive or standard.
Rejection seems like a timely visitor after how wonderful I’ve been feeling for the last several weeks. I was rejected from a freelance opportunity, one that I thought I’d be the perfect fit for.
At first, it felt the same as it’s felt in the past. My heart kind of dropped, I felt my chest fill with a sort of pressure that feels like things are closing in on me, and I start to wonder why I ever thought I’d be good enough to think someone would actually want my work, let alone pay for it.
As someone who hops on a plane almost monthly or more these days, I tend to think I have this whole “travel” thing down pat.
I wait till the night before to pack, have my little travel sized bottles for my hair products, and never forget a charger. I’ve never missed a flight (knocking on wood right now), and always arrive at the airport with plenty of time to spare. I have my routine, and everything kind of falls into place.
It’s so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your eyes, or the lashes on your eyelids. It’s the kind of darkness that makes you see things that can’t really be there, like random shocks of red light, or an incomprehensible low throb of light pulsing in the edges of your vision.
It’s silent, but you can hear– hear isn’t the right word– you can loudly feel every movement inside your body– the crack of your spine, the pulse of your organs, the click of your fingers.