Hot Tears

I want you to not feel crazy. 

I want you to taste the salty sweet surrender of looking your truth straight in the eyeballs. All while knowing you are safely held. That the deep, inner stare down between you and your inner knowing is held by you alone and you can walk away anytime you choose.

Even if you choose to not change a GD thing. 

I want you to know you can cry the hot tears of finally admitting your truth to yourself but not knowing how you will tell another. The barely audible whisper of “I am too afraid to admit I want/don’t want…”

My “hot tears” honest truth? I thought I COULD NOT POSSIBLY EVER… 

• Leave the Fundamentalist Christian community I grew up in to find my true self piece by piece. 

• Find peace without my family fully embracing me being gay.

• Bask in the most fulfilling, honest and intimate partnership/marriage on the planet. 

• Leave the industry I had worked so hard for after a decade. 

• Embrace entrepreneurship with all its unknowns and its absence of “bi-weekly paychecks.”

One of these things was made possible through therapy. The rest of them were made possible through life coaching. 

Each of these things have something in common. When we take risks and push past our patterns, it can feel earth shattering. We can convince ourselves we are CRAZY for even WANTING it. And that thought alone keeps us small. 

I want you to feel the tingly sparks that come after you wade through the full spectrum of emotional sensations that come with a breakthrough and you sense the sunlight on your skin in a new way. For it is new skin in that moment. You get to feel the lightness, the hope + the electricity of risk. 

I want you to feel that freedom. I want you to feel the freedom that comes with cracking the crusty, outer shelled mask of “don’t rock the boat” and “I couldn’t possibly” and “I’ve only seen it done this way.”

The thought that keeps you from rocking the boat and ripping off the bandaid. The one that you snuff out when a beloved asks you what you’re thinking and you say, “...oh, nothing.”

That thought you keep having that you don’t feel you can share with anyone. That’s the one. That’s the ticket. That’s the gold. I want to hold it for you so you can take a full, deep breath.