I’m home now and fully settled back in after an amazing week. It is the most supportive and affirming environment I’ve ever been in and I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunity it gave me to see myself in a different light. I am hanging onto that tightly as I step back into days past.
My life as a messenger.
It’s tricky, because I’m writing a book about the identity I am so eager to shed. Tapping back into that is both blessing and curse. I spent the morning revisiting a time just five years ago that would be the beginning of the end of my postal career. My life began to unravel and the urgency began to grow to get out. It took me right back and it was jarring.
Responsibility bumped up often against my desire to give my body the rest it desperately needed. To leave before 30 years would never be an option, although for more days that I can count, it was all I could think of. I could physically make it to that finish line but at what cost? I made my way cautiously forward through the fog. One step at a time.
And that is part of my story.
I am still looking for my tribe. This has been an ongoing theme for several years now and it runs parallel to my path out of the post office. The people there were the thread that held me together, but the truth of those connections is pretty clear: without the daily engagement, what would become of those fragile relationships ? After stepping away, what would be there to hang onto going forward ?
That is a part of my story too.
I’m doing it.
I’m writing it.
I’m hopeful for whatever new revelations might await me. And as always, I am softening to a new way of being in the world. It feels a little lonely sometimes but I remain loyal and true to the story.
Thanks for being here for this part of my journey.