Some thoughts don’t hit until you’re surrounded by running water. For me, water has always been the reset button. It’s where I do my best thinking — clearing my head, my heart, and soul-searching until I find myself again. But this time, the shower didn’t just wash away feelings — it gave me clarity.
I truly love showers. They’re my time — to think, to just be. My shower helped wash the feelings away. Water always does. It clears the static, washes the weight off my heart, even if it can’t quite wash the weight out of my chest. I feel lighter now, but still carrying it. And maybe that’s okay. This weight is mine. It isn’t crushing; it’s just the kind that comes with knowing I have to choose — and then be okay with the outcome, whatever it may bring.
My choice doesn’t only affect me, it affects my guy too. That’s part of the weight. I know we need to talk more about my decision. Not because I need permission, but because I want to make sure we’ve weighed everything out and understand the ripples we could face. You know, the ones that hit harder if you’re unprepared. My guy loves me with equal parts worry and unwavering support. His worry is only about my well-being and happiness. That’s all he wants.
I’ve lived most of my life in the background. Not hiding — just choosing not to stand in the spotlight. It’s quieter there. Safer. When you’re unseen, you can watch and notice everything if you pay attention. And I do. Somehow though, even when I try to stay out of sight, I still end up standing out.
I’ve never really “fit in,” even though I can blend into almost any group. Curiosity helps with that. People are drawn to me, but I’ve never needed or asked for their attention. I don’t crave it. In fact, I’d rather not have it. Attention comes with expectations, with blame, with fire.
I’ve excelled at dancing around those fires — ducking, sidestepping, taking hits for what was never mine to own, making myself small or quiet to keep the peace. I’ve felt like a secret ninja: unseen, but when I strike, they never see it coming. People mistake who I choose to be as weakness.
But the last fire I danced in? That fire scorched me deep in my soul. It depleted me. And strangely, I’m thankful for it. Because I can see it now — I needed it. Without that intense flame, I would’ve stayed stuck in a quiet, unshakable unhappiness I could never name. That fire cauterized my patterns, and for the first time, I see everything clearly.
Now I see my patterns. My patterns. And with that comes choice. I don’t have to keep playing the games people get sucked into. I can choose differently. I can carry both a shield and a sword. The shield is my peace — my boundaries, my privacy, my right to protect what’s sacred. The sword is my truth — sharp, strong, and unafraid to cut through the lies.
I don’t have to keep hiding in the background or play the scapegoat. I don’t feel the need to follow others, endlessly dancing around the flames.
I can stand in front of the fire now, knowing I won’t be consumed by it.
Author: Ellie Wilde / Grizzly Hippie Journal Series
Comments
Post a Comment