lost

I want to talk about those days we wake up feeling lost, right down to the marrow of our bones.  

I want to talk about those days when the lost feeling doesn’t shift, despite all of our best intentions and practices and life.

I want to talk about feeling lost without the need for antidotes or someone else’s map to found being sold as my only way out. There is not only one way out and maybe I don’t need one, and I certainly don’t need an antidote, not right now.

I want to talk about feeling lost and not needing in this moment to be found, to need, instead, to feel my way through, for as long as it takes, wherever it leads.

I want to talk about the feeling lost creates, the emptiness, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, the grip it makes on my bones, the grief, the ache. 

I want to talk about the overwhelm of lost, its suffocating hold on my breath and the way it exhaustingly moves in and out of every pour. And I want to talk about the home lost can also create in its wake. 

I want to talk about how lost I’m feeling without pity, or solution, or positivity plea, or reason why I shouldn’t feel like this – because I do feel like this and all the reasons why I shouldn’t won’t help me here, they’ll only shame me and push me further away.

I want to talk about lost in the language of feeling, in the language of compassion, in the language togetherness. 

I want to talk about lost and how broken it can make us feel and all at the same time how whole we can be in our broken pieces. 

I want to talk about lost, I want you to know I am feeling lost today, and if you can hold it, if you can hold this, I want to talk to you too.

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