On Beginning Again:

starting again for the first time feels like stepping into the sunshine on your porch for the first time again after hibernating in your bedroom for 9 and a half long days. the first sip of a London fog on a crisp Monday morning. filling out your journal and listening to your weekly discovery tucked away in the corner of the patio at your favorite local shop. sitting in the waves searching for crabs with new friends in the middle of your twenties. receiving calls from your sister throughout the week and getting the opportunity to pour into each other, cry, yell, and process together, laugh and dream-like kids. rediscovering a sense of wonder. reconnecting with your creative nature. doing something you used to love just for the fun of it. trying something new just for the fun of it. letting yourself be bad at something and still enjoy it. talking to that one friend you hadn't heard from in months and reconnecting over the heartache of the collective human struggle. sitting under the stars and realizing just how small you are. catching a glimpse of a shooting star and realizing just how important your dreams are. crying on the edge of your bed with your mom, talking about family baggage, the curses we pass on, along with the blessings, for this is the healing of deep-rooted familiar trauma. celebrating with your therapist when you start to make the connections. the way you stand taller as you rebuild confidence in yourself as you actually do the hard work of learning to follow through on commitments, goals, and dreams. the way you stand taller and rebuild your confidence when you stand up for your boundaries walking down the same streets you did five years ago reminiscing on growth. finally pulling your old journal off the shelf to write this very poem on beginning.