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Even in the darkest of times, it is always important to focus, if you can, on the positives. No matter how small. No matter how few.
Because I know, deep down, I am made of strong stuff. Rebuilt with it, at least, the way we all are, over the years, with age and experience, skin thickening, heart softening, patched up double in the places prone to breakage. A sum of all the things that have hurt us, scared us, sheltered and delighted us.
Maybe home isn’t a place. It’s a feeling. Of being looked after and understood. Of being loved.
“It’s all just—life, isn’t it? Disordered and chaotic and out-of-nowhere, and we have to plan and navigate our way around it the best we can.”
“You know what you need to do?” she says. “What?” “What I do. I think about the Rosie Kalwar who isn’t afraid, the one that thinks nothing of posing in a bikini on a beach, or doing an Instagram Live with a massive pimple and no makeup, and I just pretend I’m her. Every damn day.”
What is it about someone asking if you’re okay? Even if you think you’re holding it together, all it takes is someone asking if you’re all right to completely melt away your resolve and bring that lump bobbing straight into your throat.
“That is called a conversation, is it not, Emmie? How relationships are made, slowly sharing pieces of yourself, in turn?”
One step at a time. Because that’s what I’m doing now. One small step forward at a time, until I gather enough distance, that when I look over my shoulder, I can barely see those things in the past that held me back for so long.
