My dad said to me a few years ago: "i don't know why you keep thinking you're so broken." And though at first I was triggered af, I relized he was right.
I’ve been creative (and sensitive) since I came out of the womb: watching my dad in his wood workshop, skipping history class for the art room, climbing through the art building window to be in the darkroom until the wee hours of the morning in college.
So these days I’m doing something that feels rebellious:
I’m centering my joy and creativity instead of searching for more reasons to be broken.
that’s the real cost of thinking you’re broken: you spend so much energy fixing that you forget to live.
Then plant medicine, ceremonies, coaches, endless inner work, and a sh*t ton of money spent on self help books. On the hunt for the thing that would finally fix me.
First it was the opportunity to move across the country in 2021