The NeverEnding Story of our Journeys | There is Never Just One

Oh the illusory promise of a blissful end to our unravelling is so intoxicating, a solitary exhale to signify the finality of our healing… but then there’s another layer. And another. The peeling of our onion layers.

 

The internal journey is endless, as too can be our external one. Our journeys breed more journeys. More delving, more discovery, more delicious poetry.

 

Which journey are you on right now?

Which wave are you surfing? 

 

How does the endlessness of it feel in your body? Do you breathe deeply, excitedly into possibility, or do your limbs feel heavy under the weight of it all?

 

I’ve been on so many journeys. As within, so without. I’ve lived and rooted in different cities, in different countries for different reasons. I know I’m not yet done.

 

I’ve developed different skins, I’ve descended into madness and beyond. I lived in chaotic self-destruction for over a decade, I felt myself free fall into what many people called insanity. I allowed myself to plummet. I relinquished control.

 

I danced with the darkness and my demons danced with me. I was their puppet. My strings their toy. 

 

Then another journey across the edge to sanity. On the brink but still breathing. Crying, pulsing, expanding. More new skins. More journeys. More layers. 

 

The metamorphosis of wounds into scabs into scars. Their stories in my skin, in my tissues, in my cells.

 

I used to want it to stop. I wanted to reach a plateau of euphoria and just be happy. No more pain. No more strain. 

 

But then another journey. Lifting the veil and seeing beyond the light into the shadows. My shadow. Leaning into her with more love in my heart than I could imagine. 

 

It’s still a journey. But I’m here for it all. 

 

And I’m here for yours too.