Metamorphosis

I've had a physically difficult, snot-filled couple of days. I have been as sick as a dog. I honestly don't remember the last time I got sick like this. It's terrible.

My life experiences especially in the last 365 days or so have been teaching me that inside and outside are really one. I'm not claiming a universal truth here. I don't think I'm New Agey at all. I'm just speaking from empirical knowledge.

The last few weeks have been admittedly tough that it's not surprising that it eventually led to a physical illness. I have been hyper-processing some heavy shit that my body eventually had to collapse with the exhaustion. I've heard this from both Anthony and The Psychologist - sometimes, physical illness is cathartic. It's a release of sorts. It's cleansing.

I fought it with all my might, though. I'm a bada$$ woman - a puny cold is not going to deter me. But you know what? There's beauty in the surrender. There's a bottom if you allow yourself to sink with it. Eventually, you naturally come up to the surface. To the sunshine. To the fresh air. To the smell of rain and pine trees.

There is tremendous strength in vulnerability.

I cleaned out my closet last weekend and got rid of clothes. I had three mattresses that were sitting in my garage since I moved in that I finally got picked up on Tuesday. Some people in my life that weren't the healthiest for me have been slowly edging farther (and honestly, I'm glad). I'm cleaning house - literally and figuratively.

"I've had my run. Baby, I'm done. I'm coming home."

Namaste.