I am, I am, I am.

I am getting excited about the mornings again, to get up, sit down, and write. I haven't had this feeling in a very long time. Being a responsible lone parent means that I would often allow myself to be overcome by thinking and dealing with responsibilities and commitments when I first open my eyes. Not necessarily the only way to go, but it seems that I got myself stuck. It also seems that I am getting myself out of this, slowly but surely. I am more capable of giving when I am nurtured, and I haven't been nurturing myself in a very long time. I think the last time I was feeling truly at home this way, inside my body, was back when I was still in my Dekweneh apartment, a year ago. My soul is starved...

To wake up in the morning, in tune with my own thoughts around myself, my wellbeing, my state of mind, my feelings, and most importantly, desires, needs, and wants, seems to be the utmost privilege these days. For sure, it doesn't need to be this way, after all, I am an artist and a creator, and everything I do stems from within me. If within is rustic, neglected, rotten, then what can I produce, then what can I create, and who would I be without my creations and my doing? 

I am trying hard this week to clear my system from the toxic things I stuff my face with. As usual, it's proving to be hard, and I didn't go cold turkey, but slowly easing into it, one meal / snack / drink at a time. A binge, emotional eater is destined to deal with any distress through overeating. I have been overeating my whole grown up life. Perhaps when I was younger even, perhaps since ever. It only started to show when I was 13 years old, and it's the memory the most vivid of me consciously choosing to try and numb myself out with food. It happened after a heartbreak, my first. 

This country is limiting, the options are restricted, my responsibilities are crippling, however, I am not my responsiblities, nor this current situation, or this messed up country. I so happen to be here, in this time and place, but I shall come back to the space I hold within, I must remember, I must stay true to the voice within. 

Facebook reminded me today of a post I was tagged in back in 2015. It was by my bookish friend Hoda who tagged me in it, a photo of a pendant I made her with the words I AM I AM I AM, referring to Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. The pendant lays against the cover of the book. I never got so much into Sylvia Plath, but that book read back then did touch a nerve. 

I suppose in lots of ways, I needed to see this today.