Stillness

It's the end of 2022 and I haven’t written a blog post since January 14, reflecting on 2021.

My desire to write has been so powerful, but unfortunately, my belief that my words are worth reading has been heartbreakingly low.

Words used to flow so freely out of me that it was difficult to stop; I journaled, read, wrote, and spoke constantly. But now I’ve built a shelter around my mind, refusing to let anything out until I could articulate it just how I wanted, which led to dust piling atop my journals and fear inside of me to speak anything at all.

I used to have writing goals for myself. “A book by 25,” I’d say. That Word document sits at 125 pages, stagnant progress and it haunts me every time I see it. I’ve grown so much, but in that time I’ve grown quiet as well. Something I never thought I’d say about myself. A quiet Tess? Two words that have never and, in my opinion, should never exist next to each other.

However, though I’ve maintained a relatively quiet mouth, my ears have remained open. This has proven my ability to listen carefully, thoughtfully, and intently to my surroundings and the secrets stillness can tell.

This stillness has

brought me here, to you, to form my third annual list of lessons I’ve learned in the previous year:

January: Chaos is comfortable, despite the connotation the word provides. Vices can only support you for so long before the glass shatters. This leaves you, and you alone, to pick up every piece until it forms a version of you that’s even slightly recognizable. Looking through a shattered lens with the high of unpredictability wafting through the air, you may need assistance. Lean into it. Ask for help.

February: The definition of “love bombing” was learned this month. What I’ve come to understand is that no matter how well-intentioned, it will never bring you consistency, stability, reliability, or reciprocity. Misplacement of lust and excitement will lead to unmet expectations and miscommunication the moment a hairline fracture appears in the paper-thin foundation you had.

March: Going into financial debt is very scary. Even more so when you admit to it being caused by your own impulsive and reckless habits. Few things warrant going into debt, and the most likely answer is that whatever you’re buying isn’t worth it. Choose wisely. Choose with intent.

April: Identity and belonging are two very hard things to grasp. Understanding that there is a difference between who I am to them and who I am to me has helped me unlearn grossly unhealthy habits to innately morph into my surroundings. I am my own vessel in the world, I am who I am and the most important opinion of that is my own. After starving myself of nutrition and love for years, I’ve realized that the more secure and profound my body feels, the more I honor it for the wars it has survived… the more I feel I have a place to belong in the world. I am the owner, author, and painter of my worth, something I stripped away so long ago. My identity and belonging have always been within the scars, stretch marks, and bruises of my body and the stories they tell. Discovering that has paved the road to recovery.

May: Allow yourself to be proud. One-upping yourself is natural, but in doing so, you’re admitting to being your biggest threat. There’s a difference between threat and motivation, one of which can be determined by how they make us feel. Listen closely when you speak about your goals. Where do they derive from? Our goals shouldn’t derive from their documentable progression in the scrapbook pages of our lives. They should begin and end with our innocent and pure intention to make ourselves proud. Your goals will change year to year, month to month, and day to day. Some successes will need to be achieved again and again in order to stick. Whatever you’re doing, be proud of it for you.

June: Sometimes you’ll spend an entire month celebrating Pride and your ability to love humans that the single most important lesson you learn is that younger you would think you’re so cool and brave for loving freely. And that’s enough.

July: Some months will be spent daydreaming, making mood boards, and planning a life that isn’t yours yet. I find July to be one of the best months to do this. Something about the air, the trees, the birds and bees, the sense of silliness that summer brings. The rest of the year can be for learning, give yourself a month to just sit in it all.

August: Occasionally, life will hit you unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You’ll swear it’s never been this bad before. You’ll swear it could never get any worse. It will break you, it will wreck you, and it will make you go into hiding. There is nothing crueler than believing that your existence on this eerily intricate planet is anything less than divine. Tap

into the deepest fears in your mind, the brightest fires in your heart, and acknowledge that we all have one common interest: the yearning desire to experience as much as we can while we’re falling to our inevitable deaths. It’s up to you to make that sentence as beautiful as it is evocative.

September: A monumental step this month was buying a tight-fitting dress. Having my incredibly talented best friend take my photos in the dress will be a highlight in my life for the next few years at least. I looked at those photos, referred to the feelings of identity and belonging, and believed (for the first time) that the person in the photos is worthy of praise and unwavering love. That she, in all of her glory, was capable of falling in love with herself. In fact, she set out to do so. She was ready to pick up the last piece of the shattered mirror and complete her mosaic; the agonizing side project with no end in sight and she could finally see herself in the reflection.

October: Trust yourself when life becomes still. When you admit that the chaos has to come to an end, trust that you can be you without it.

November: Decide what deserves your effort, energy, time, and money. Decipher which situations deserve second chances. You’ll be fooled and undeserved attention will be given, but do not let it harden you. This is what we’re all here for – connection and experience. Get up, guard your heart a tiny bit more, and dive back in head first. You have everything to gain and one day you’ll thank yourself for remaining soft.

December: You’ll blink and there’s already another year gone. As a human race we are incapable of catching the fleeting moment with a delicate enough touch to see it wholly. Our moments, our memories- they’re as much metaphors as the snowflakes are. One in a million, altered by the slightest change in temperature or the simplest change in perception. Our memories are quite alike in the way that we all have our own versions, altered by the people and places that we experienced them with. With this in mind, give yourself grace. I keep writing to remember how things felt in the moment, though often exacerbated, with the intent of reflection over time. I think we all do this intrinsically, so let each other breathe and discover in time. Let each other experience moments as they come and reflect upon them as they will.

I feel older this year. I feel that the battles I’ve lost and won have burrowed their flags into my front lawn, warning the other ships that I’ve been to hell and back to get here. Life feels calm, almost suspiciously, but, “I can still be me without chaos,” I trust. I am relaxed and content- things I’ve feared for so long after deciding that I was not adept enough to be successful in stillness. I am here to admit and accept that stillness is scary, but stillness is a step I never thought I’d reach either. The inner turmoil over which thought is scarier is building, but growth is the consequence, and I’ll celebrate that even with a quivering lip.

Love it already,

Tess M