Almost two months.
Of juggling and wading and balancing and shifting.
Almost two months of going through the gamut of human emotion.
Almost two months of elation and sadness and confusion and productivity and exhaustion and positivity and cocooning and laughter and frustration.
I made a decision almost two months ago, one I didn’t even consciously realise at the time; this whole experience wasn’t going to happen to me — I was going to happen to it.
That if I couldn’t go anywhere, I’d instead go inside myself. And ask some questions.
Like why do I think the way I think? Am I using my full potential? What does success mean to me? What do I want to change? What habits do I want to foster? What stories do I tell myself? What really matters to me?
I have pages of questions and more pages of answers.
I have fostered new habits.
I have dug deep and I’m not nearly at the bottom.
I’ve realised there’s some things I miss about ‘normal’ life, but some I absolutely don’t.
There’s some things I can’t wait to get back to, and some things I never will.
I knew this period would offer growth, and clarity, but I didn’t realise quite how much.
I love getting uncomfortable — I’ve made a life out of it — but I haven’t often enough allowed the space for things to get really quiet. And really still.
Because that’s genuinely uncomfortable.
Sitting — still, silent — with yourself.
Now I do it on the daily.
And, almost two months on, I can say with absolute assurance that you will bloom if you take the time to water yourself.
Also — I’m still living in playsuits.