Skip to main content

the intimacy of falling apart



The saying goes, you teach what you most need to learn.

And so I am learning all the ways inside my own intimacy, unlocking doors, touching the most tender parts underneath, exploring the corners left in darkness.

As it turns out, this kind of inward reaching and deeper connectivity is the hardest for me. I am not good at it. I haven't had a lot of practice of being met there. My walls have always been tall and well kept, not so much intended to keep others out, but more as a way to contain what is within and keep that messiness away from those who shouldn't have to see. It's what I'd always known, what I grew up with, never having witnessed my parents fight or cry, which was so confusing to a girl who had so much of both.

I have always felt a little broken for having so many feelings.

So it was in the sanctuary of anonymity when I went away to college, away from home for the first time, from friends, from anything that felt familiar or what might at all resemble my life, I slowly and spectacularly came apart. It wasn't my first depression, but it was the one that changed my life the most.

I realize now that there is an aching intimacy to coming undone. It's the kind of vulnerability that is the most scary to me - to feel all the big feelings, and to let others anchor you and see you in such an exposed way. It's still difficult for me to share the hard stuff, even in small doses. It takes an immense amount of trust and conscious effort for me to turn that filter off. I think it's why I often crave the shadow side and need the permission of descent every once in a while.

These days I am less afraid of my feelings, but I am still on a wild search for ways to safely touch my naked truth and to let others into that space with me. My sexual exploration and openness has become a huge healing part of that intimacy practice, and it is also these acts of writing that often helps me scale the wall, over and over, building the muscle to be seen. Really, all my creative practices have become breadcrumbs to help me find my way inside. It's talking about my life out-loud that is still the most difficult for me. To offer up that part of myself, the hard, ugly, imperfect parts, will always be a struggle. But I am getting better at it, and I gratefully no longer have to fall apart to go there.







Comments

  1. A beautiful light you are, leading many of us into our own caves with more courage because of it. ox

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. thank you so much for these words. courage is something we can all use more of ;) xo

      Delete
  2. i feel like it's a milestone of spiritual maturity when the realization hits that we can choose growth of our own volition, without having to wait for life events to beat us into submission :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. you are so right. and it really didn't occur to me until now that finding other ways of submitting, healthier more proactive ways, is exactly where my spirit wants to go. thank you for this insight! xo

      Delete
  3. This is great! I love your line: "there is an aching intimacy to coming undone". ♡ I've been digging into the shadowy side of things too and learning to truly appreciate their value. It's great to follow along with a fellow excavator here and on instagram.
    Cheers!
    @Fantasticallyfunky

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I am so grateful for your thoughts and solidarity! here's to ALL the journeys. big love xo

      Delete
  4. I love this post. There is so much within your writing that resonates with me. I see myself there. Thank you for sharing your thoughts even when it feels hard. xoxo

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Inner Alchemy Cards: Build A New World Deck

Our next make-your-own card adventure is finally here! Inner Alchemy Collage: Build A New World Deck (online) is an artful exploration of language, learning, inspiration, and collaboration, that delves into important ideas around activism and systems of oppression. This is a way for us to examine and disrupt harmful dominant narratives, tell new stories, and inspire one another to use our creativity and personal power to help build the collective world we all want to live in! In the end you will have a beautiful and meaningful handmade deck of 35 oracle cards to use as unique a tool for guidance and reflection whenever you need it.  I'm your host,  Mindy Tsonas Choi , an artist, organizer, radical belonging activist, and the founder of the Be Seen Project - a grassroots initiative resourcing BIPOC artist and makers working in activism. Join me along with other stellar artists, makers and co-creators who have also been exploring social justice and activism as part of their creativ

The Cost of Selling Belonging

As someone who use to sell belonging and believed I was creating something universally magical , I now have fresh eyes on the harm that I once caused. I understand what can (and was) incredibly healing and impactful for some, was at the same time excluding, marginalizing and undervaluing others. First, to anyone who ever felt like they did not belong to anything I created because they were unable to afford it or felt like they did not have the social capitol to join -  I am sincerely sorry for not seeing you sooner .   To our entire creative community as a whole, I urge us all to think about belonging in new and equitable ways, and to do the work of dismantling these hierarchical structures that leave so many people out of the circle. We all deserve to have access to creativity and belonging, and I'd go so far as to say both are fundamental basic human needs and rights. Selling belonging can look like... Creating spaces and experiences that can only be accessed by buying in at one,

what's in a name?

It’s May 14, 2020 and I’m on a transnational call with a social worker and translator of the SOS Children’s Village offices in South Korea. It’s 7pm my time and 9am the next day in Korea, which adds to the surreal quality of the moment. It is my first long distance call following my inquiry with the organization documented to be my first place of entry into the system, found in my Korean records (the acquisition of which is an incredible story in and of itself). It was July 21, 1972 and I was 5 months old. It’s a small miracle the organization still exists, and an even bigger blessing that they took such time and care in searching for information and to talk it all through with me in person. I try not to cry as the call connects. What I learn is a lot of small details about that fateful evening which amount to nothing traceable, but still feel like huge missing pieces of my life. I was left near the entrance around 7pm under a small tree, wrapped in a blanket with only a name scribble