In February of 2018, I posted an essay to Facebook. It was the first time I had posted to a social media platform in years. My boyfriend at the time observed me struggling to follow through with this goal of mine and supported me in clicking the “publish” button:
I felt intensely vulnerable after posting this, struggling to peel myself from my Facebook page for the following hours and days, watching “likes” and comments trickle in. I’m not entirely sure what I was expecting. Was I on guard for hateful or snide remarks? Was I desperately needing validation from old acquaintances? Was I only doing my best to (impossibly) control or monitor each person who saw and read my thoughts?
Fast forward two years; and here we are again. The vulnerability hangover was, indeed, a massive one. I could not even bring myself to reply to the kind, thoughtful comments from people I love. But now, even closer to 30 (two months!!), I am making big moves. I quit my job. I left my relationship. And I rented an apartment in Buenos Aires, Argentina with my close friend, Abby. We’re here now. I sent her a post I found via Instagram before we left the US which read:
“get in the car loser we’re healing and falling in love with life again”
I feel happier, healthier, and calmer than I’ve been in years. I am creating, mostly painting and writing, and I’m feeling compelled to share some of these imperfect works with the world. Because I’m tired of sitting at the edge of a high branch, wondering if I will fall, when I haven’t even given myself the chance to fly.
I’m writing about love and loss. I want to tell stories of unconditional love, affection, romance, unrequited love, obsession, rejection, lost love, missed connections, and more.
I’m writing about seeing and seeking love of all kinds, including, and perhaps most importantly, self-love.
And so it begins.
