February: A kiss with a fist

Wellness gets better when it’s working with all it has.

I love my anger. She makes me feel so deeply, and I let her speak, so she yells. And so she cries. And so she sighs. And soon my anger dies for today.

I love my anger. I like her sitting where I can see her in my rearview mirror. 

I also love my joy. I have the audacity to be happy, to find joy where I can. 

The world is looking like a second hand puzzle and I’m afraid some pieces have gone missing for good. And what is left are great chunks of beauty, burnt edges, broken pieces of wholes, and it’s jarring to look at.  

Fatigue, fear, excitement, disbelief, confusion, happiness, are all kicking and screaming on top of eachother. It’s a playground in my brain.

So I play them music to move with, I take a walk to give them room, I write to give them bodies, and eventually it’s quiet.

I am okay. But so many others are not. 

I wish I could go into articulating some insight I have figured out, but mostly-I am trying just to breathe through my nose, eat, and have capacity. 

Lately, my biggest task is noticing the deep laughter amongst friends, the sun I get to feel on winter days, and choosing love, even when anger wants to drive and she drives fast. 

I need my cup full if I am going to fight, because I will. With all the love and anger and compassion I can have.

Because I love, I will not let hate ruin my day.