Yesterday at teacher training, Sam said something lovely about part of growth being tied to allowing yourself release. I was probably white-knuckling a pen or my water bottle or something at that exact moment, so I'm sure I have no idea what she was talking about and certainly it has nothing to do with me, I'm totally fine THANKYOUVERYMUCH.
I mean, but clearly not.
I've always kept a very tight grip on my writing, this blog, my image. When I am not writing much, it's usually because I don't think I have anything worthy of putting out to the world (there are a serious amount of partially-edited drafts in the backlogs here). Or I was afraid to write what I really thought because I didn't want to let anyone in. Something along those lines.
Fuck that. I release thee! Here's a hastily-written poem. Welcome to my head.
I permit myself release!
I release control;
I release all emotion;
I release myself
I release these expectations;
I am more/muchier/most
I am strong palms and victorious headstands, splayed toes
five lines of energy, riotous breath
Exhaustion set aside in favor of the non-stop tremble
I am the center of a spinning top
Perpetual motion wrapping tightly
around precarious balance
please don't let me fall
I don't recognize this person
these explosive thoughts
this strong and capable body
(I am not these thoughts, this body)
I am melting
I don't want it to