All the shoulda-coulda-wouldas...

Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s missing the island. Maybe it’s me digesting it all. This summer. Friendships. Other-ships. Riding high and then not. Which is strange. This rest. Not moving my body is current practice right now. It is okay and then it’s not. I move to be moved. To release. I wonder what’s the point in this? Even this post. I don’t care for everything to be pretty. And then I remember. I courage forward again. 

As relationships change, grow, mold, and fold. I think back to why I started. I think of all the incredible people that have helped me, pushed me, and cheered me on to keep on. Everyday, I work towards my fears, jumping at opportunities that scare me the most. I think of the people that steered me in ways to stand up for myself, the ones that haven’t been so kind, or perhaps turned into something completely unexpected. Sometimes I feel the loss as though I should’ve known (better) or could’ve done more for someone. How could I help? I can’t. Not everyone wants or needs your help, Steph. This is the self-talk I must remind myself. Sit myself down like the little girl that wants to help. All the shoulda-coulda-woulda’s thinking don’t change shit.

And then I remember: we are not here to live up to each other’s expectations. We can only love one another, even if that love must come from a distance.

So I shall sit propped up on pillows as I’m forgetting to ice the leg. I am toasting a beer to all near and far while sitting next to the two most important men at my side who remind me that all is alive and well, alive and well. The two that keep growing me and showing me the way every damn day.

stephanie birch