But Not. Here
There will be so much more for me to share of this experience, but for now, I shall share what I put on my Instagram. It gives you insight into what’s happening in my heart right now. But I don’t think I am alone. I don’t think so by a desert mile.
I almost didn’t post this or try to capture it in words.
It’s too perfect, made by hands too refined to ever be recreated in a snap. More so, it’s not meant for capture. It’s a wild thing meant to remind us that we are of this earth and not of bytes and ‘bucks.
Ironic because I’m sharing it at @mom2summit
But not.
They say the desert is a special place. I wouldn’t know. It’s my 2nd visit and the 1st was this exact spot for this exact event.
But not.
I’m sitting here staring at a moon and I’m sharing the uncapturable because something is happening here. I’m awake because I passed out at 6:30 last night. Exhausted? Yes.
But not.
I’m tired.
We’re tired. And I bet you’re tired, too.
Tired of hiding our true in a name of best that isn’t real. Tired of negativity and fear being the loudest voice in the room when we know that we all want them gone. Tired of masks and pretending that we have it together which only make it harder to ask for help and harder for others to ask us.
I slept last night. Sure I sleep every night.
But not
I slept because people saw me yesterday. Strangers.
But not.
Jen Hatmaker, who I admired for my years when I was an #austinblogger shared herself and I was torn asunder. I had seen her at many mutual events. We had that one #kevinbacon thing. She shared her life falling apart and being put back together. But she had “had it together” all those years.
But not.
The fact that I knew of her and not she me didn’t make her life what I thought. And in the moment she shared her fears about her son ice struck my body. Whatever MacGyver paper clips and hot glue holding my mask together. Gone. At a blog conference. Better go get it together.
But not
Those strangers began walking up to me. Like something in a film in which I was upgraded star but thought I was still the supporting player. Brea Schmidt found me literally stumbling trying to get coffee. I said I was fine. Most times it ends there.
But not. Here.
She pulled me outside and rather than a quick “you good?” she saw me. I was instantly swept into a hug and real talk.
A light named Ash stopped the world and melted with me 💜
All day. Here.
But really anywhere, if we want. I know I do.
