Though it's been subtle, I do believe I have turned the page and am now, entirely, in the next chapter of my life. No longer that scared and insecure girl who lived in her head because she was terrified of consequence. Somewhere along the way, I developed into the woman I am today. Here is how I knew...

At the promise of a new job (fingers-still-crossed) I began to look for housing options that would make my commute bearable once I was back on my feet, financially. At first, the decision of where to live in my hometown of Atlanta felt overwhelming. Would I live closer to the school and thus away from family and really every metro suburb I was vaguely familiar with? Or would I live in the city, and thus with a roommate, to indulge fully in the young ITP professional life? Would I go north towards Buckhead or even Sandy Springs? I searched and debated and went back and forth over and over again until I settled down enough to ask myself, "What is it you want right now?" It wasn't just about a place to stay, it was also about all the other things. What did I want from my community, if anything? What did I need to be nearby? Who did I want to be neighbors with? What activities would I be doing in my neighborhood? When I sat still and got quiet, the answer came to me easily. Reflecting on that moment, I knew I was in a different space. 

When I allowed myself to get quiet and attune my ear to the inner chambers of my heart, that is when I could truly hear. I listened like I do when I am writing: with my eyes closed, and my heart open to receiving. By now, I have learned how to sit in the pocket. In the pocket is how I describe the place of patient observing while you actively withhold action, waiting for things to unfold. I know how to temper my anxiety. I know who to call if my mood dips to the dark and twisty place. I know to drag myself outside and just breath fresh air or take a walk when I need to. If the two and a half years of healing post-sexual assault taught me nothing else, it taught me how to push through pain; how to declare myself stronger, better, more powerful than the things that threaten my peace and prosperity. I learned how to rely on nothing more than myself and God in regards to those moments. I learned that not only was that all I had, that was all I needed. 

I want to keep bees and grow a garden. I want a room dedicated only to my art. I want an SUV, a nice one. I want to travel up to Knoxville for home games. I want to start hosting a holiday get together for my family. I want to date. Really date. I want to start singing again. I want to volunteer at my old high school. I want to join a sorority. I want to travel more. I want to host wellness retreats at least twice a year. I want good friends to come over for dinner. I want to send cards and gifts to the people I love for their special occasions. I want to always have fresh flowers in my kitchen. I want to start exercising and training regularly. I want to begin curating my art collection. Those are the things that make me happy. 

And over the course of writing those things down, I realized that those simple pleasures do not need to come with some big famous life. Sometimes my ego gets the best of me. Even though I would maintain that the idea that I will produce big work is more a feeling I've always had versus a life I'd always dreamed.
What I realize, though, is that the thing that is part of my charm, I think, is my honesty. My consistent insistence that, who I am as I am is more than enough. The loyalty I show to my own intuition. Those are the things that make me who I am and are at the foundation of any work I produce: whole-hearted honesty. 

Honesty could be the name of this chapter. I have noticed it's threading throughout even my simplest decisions. I have started to grow annoyed with my braids, wigs and weaves and mentally started willing myself to just make peace with the hair on my head. I have all but given up eyeshadow, colorful lipsticks and most other make up that is anything other than brown and natural. I haven't worn a bra all year, and just the other day, I opted for a good buff and clear coat on my toenails.

All I can think about is how hard I had to push to arrive at this place where I like who I am. Where, even though life isn't perfect it is good and it is fully of hope and possibility. How, despite my circumstance, I know that my life has purpose and meaning and I am here for a reason. That even when I lose, I win because it is a lesson learned and no one can take experience away from me. Life is good in this chapter. Life is pure, it is clear, it is flawed and it is without wax. I feel like the living embodiment of a Marco Cochrane sculpture; how they are constructed to show movement, and dynamism but how they are still open enough to receive all the universe has to offer. That is honest. That is where I am right now.