Healing

The weight of being seen, and the courage to stay.

My Dearest Reader,

I have to be very honest with you. I'm struggling to sit here today. Not because I'm in a rush, or because I want to be somewhere else. But because I don't know what the hell I'm doing.

No... scratch that. I do know what I'm doing. Or at least why I'm doing it. I just don't know how it's all going to work out.

What if I get it all wrong again? What if I get the messages mixed up? What if I open the wrong door? What if I make a fool of myself... again? That terrifies me.

I'm sitting here with giant tears streaming down my face. Because the realization that I've started something... that I've finally come out of hiding... and now there's no going back into the cave where it was safe to be small. Where there was no chance of disappointing anyone.

I mean, I could disappear again. Delete all my accounts. Give no way for people to find me. They'd forget about me soon enough. I've done it before. Plenty of times.

But I don't forget.

And this time, I don't want to be forgotten. I want to be remembered. Fought for. Seen. I want to be worthy of taking up space. Of being loud. Of being real.

"Don't think. Just do."

Here I am, saying it to myself, through a flood of tears. Exposing all my weaknesses to the world. To you. This is me, practicing radical faith. The kind that doesn't require a full map -- just the next step. I don't need to know where the path leads. I just need to gather the stones.

Most of my Saturday morning is gone now. Interrupted by a lifelong bond... my words were read.

I was seen. In a way no one can truly understand. The way I've longed for so long. Like I was finally released from a cage buried deep within the core of Jupiter. My words did that.

Even on a day like this, when I struggle to find more, I know that each one is meant to be a part of something great. I just need to remind myself every day: I'm not in charge of how it all works out. I'm just here to show up, in harm to none.

The Message That Wasn't Mine

Yesterday's post haunted me. It sat heavy in my chest all day. I woke up with anxiety, with a feeling that I had shared something that didn't feel like mine. Not like the others. It didn't come from the same place.

And now I'm remembering why. That message wasn't from me. It was through me. A channeled message I was trusted to deliver. One that belonged to someone else's timeline. I had opened myself up, but I hadn't fully let go.

And that's the part I always forget: letting go is a process.

So let's talk about it, in real time. As I remember how.

Not every post will wreck me. Not every word is for me. But every word is for someone. That's what I needed to remember. And now... the pressure has finally been lifted.

— AudraHealing out loud, so you don't have to heal in silence.