I come from one of those families that has a broom at the ready and the rug halfway pulled up the second anything bad happens. We are big fans of sweeping.
Needless to say, it has taken me 26 years, a turn or two through therapy, and a few sips of red wine and whiskey to admit, out loud to a crowd, that my life can be a rather dark and stormy one despite my constant face of optimism or aloofness.
I spent the past week cooped up in a prison of my own creation, ruminating endlessly, and bleeding out surprising amounts of raw emotion at every second…in public. Normally I would have sopped up the gooey mess and blamed it on Mother Nature or the moon cycles. But not this time. I stayed raw.
I am not perfectly put together and good, despite my composed exterior. This girl is brooding at the core, the emotional center, the tides, the midnight-frosted yin, the femininity of Lady Luna. I have loose limbs as only one who is real can. Yes I am optimistic, yes I am still light-hearted. But it is weighted in my bones with an unmistakeable intensity. I walk on both sides of life.
It is time to live raw; medium rare, at least.