My best friend—who is an elementary school teacher and mother of 11-year-old twins— texted me this morning. “It's crazy we all just had to get up and drop our children off at school. Hit a little different this morning.”
🌹Finding myself somewhere between livid, melancholic, pensive and longing. I’m giving myself the room to feel all those feelings, see them, remember them, express them, and then figure out how to transmute them into action and not apathy.
Full of emotions that I struggle to unpack, even with my therapist 🌹
🥀🥀
🥀deep breath.
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One phrase hit me so hard: “my body’s proximity to danger” and that’s just what it is, isn’t it? A target. Thank you for wielding your words 🌹
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exhausted. 🌹
Same same same 🌹🌹
Not many words, but so many emotions🌹
🌹 i understand.
🌹Finding myself somewhere between livid, melancholic, pensive and longing. I’m giving myself the room to feel all those feelings, see them, remember them, express them, and then figure out how to transmute them into action and not apathy.
That is the where the power lies. 🌹
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🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹 🌹
Teetering on the edge of Feeling, and then not feeling, not feeling, not feeling. 🌹
🥀. This is a weeping rose because we weep about this tragedy. We must use our voices at the ballot box and participate in economic boycotts.
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