A few weeks ago I was on the phone with my mother while she cleaned out desk drawers in a trailer where I spent a small chunk of my adolescence. Those drawers contained beautiful, terrifying, and miserable poetry written by the girl I used to be. I don’t know that girl. Most days I don’t even remember her, much less give her room to roam my thoughts. She’s not who I’m referring to when I go searching for the fearless girl I used to be. She was not fearless. She was terrified of everything but had good reasons for her fears. At some point, that girl decided to change. She decided to take responsibility for her actions, her feelings, and her destiny. At some point, she became a warrior. She picked up and moved across the country, then across the world, all on her own. She knew life was hers to conquer.
If you’re reading this you probably already know my backstory. You know that I’ve traveled the world. That I packed my bags and moved to Ireland on a whim. That (at some point) I was fearless. You probably think I still am. You know that three months ago, I could barely walk. That eight weeks and five days ago I had surgery on my spine. That five days ago, I was freed from my back brace. That yesterday, I flew to New York City. What you might not know is: It was terrifying.
I’ve flown a hundred times, at least. This time, I wasn’t sure I’d make my flight. Or if I’d make my connection. Or find my bag, a cab, the hotel. As overwhelming as it all felt, each small thing I accomplished felt like a victory. I didn’t drop my phone in the toilet (Score!). I didn’t get mugged heading to the hotel (Score!). No bed bugs (Score!). Found the theater (Score!). Sat between to two incredible ladies from Denver and Oregon. We giggled, cackled and drank our way through a bizarre and enchanting Broadway theater experience. (Super Score!) Each little win is rebuilding my inner warrior.
I feel the words grasping for the things I want to say, do, and be. Itching to be dismantled by rational thought and released in an NYC afternoon rain. The words are dragging my inner warrior to the front lines of my soul.
So: Today I am a Writer. Today I fight for my warrior.
Keep an eye out for my solo NYC adventures and upcoming trips! Feel free to comment or reach out by e-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org.