playing hide & seek with ourselves

I’m going to do that thing I used to do.

Sit here, set a timer for 30 minutes and let ‘er rip. Old school.

A mental purge of all the things on the inside coming out. Without trying to make Something Good.

Here we go.

It’s 6:10am Saturday morning. I know, I know. I am an early riser. It’s in my DNA. Nothing I can do about it. It’s black outside, the house is quiet, but both my girls are up. I can see them sitting in my 8 year old’s room “reading” their books together. It makes my heart melt.

After weeks of stumbling downstairs in the wee hours of the morning I’ve declared all desserts and playdates will be banned if I see their small beautiful faces before 6:30am.

They know I’ll never stick to it but they play along anyway.

Because I need this tiny sliver of the morning. Before It All.

This hour is my life raft. Without it, would I sink? Maybe.

I am alone. It is silent.

I go to my black lined notebook. Pour words onto the page. They are fragmented and scattered and sometimes read like lists or complaints or rants.

It’s not “writing” as much as it is breathing through words. It’s a cleanse. It’s therapy. It makes me smile and hug my girls in the morning rather than being secretly irritated that I have to be a mom again today. I’ve purged all that icky-ness that can creep in onto the page. It’s gone.

We went to a thing last night.

I wore red strappy heels, mascara, lip gloss. I even got out my fancy small purse that is almost totally useless but beautiful. I wore jewelry. My black cut-out-at-the-sides jumper required multiple people to fasten and tie me into it. I pretended like I would never have to go to the bathroom because I love this impossible jumper. It was all a thing.

My daughters looked at me like they had never seen this creature before.

For a few hours my other half and I were not parents. We were lovers. Talking, laughing, re-sparking.

It’s so important. Like capital letter Important. Essential, necessary - maybe these are better words?

Earlier today tears welled up in my eyes when some random conversation between us made me feel “disconnected” from him. Distant.

And then my monkey mind launched: are we drifting apart? I know I need to be a better wife but I’m drowning in mom life. How can I be everything for everyone and not turn to dust? We need to have more sex. More dates. More alone time. The spins start.

It’s not real. My brain knows this but my heart is a different story. The spins are a reminder. The red light that comes on in your car when you need to attend to something. It’s that. Attending to the re-spark.

A handful of hours in mascara and heels and jewels was just what we needed. Even though my sleep tank suffered, I never really ate dinner and my feet killed from standing all night (heels!). It was all worth it. The re-spark has been activated. I am calm. Secure. Better.

Sometimes we have to remember that we are in love. We have to go out into the world and be romantic love. We have to live it rather than just sleepily saying it at the end of a long day. The words need to be validated by actions.

It’s work. But the most important kind I can think of.

Where was I? Back to my morning pages. They have felt a little stagnant. I think I’m tired of talking to myself. I want to talk to you. Already its been way more fun (we are 8 minutes in) clicking away to you rather than hand cramping on the page. Even though writing pen to paper is my first true love. It will always call to me, but this feels right for now.

Click click.

I recently wrote this disclaimer that I taped to the inside of my morning pages book.

It reads:

If you are holding this book, and you are not me, Sara Camerson Quinn, please put the book down and walk away. Do not read one page, one sentence, one word. The Gods will know and they will cast down a fury upon your life that will plague you and all future generations to come. If you abide by this request, the Gods will smile upon your life and flood you with an abundance you have never seen. Your karma bank will overflow and the universe will rise up to support you and your future generations. So help you God, choose wisely.

Too much? If you knew what was in my volumes of morning pages then you would think it not enough.

What lives there?

The hidden parts.

Everything I think I could never say out loud to another person.

The things that would cast me out.

That sliver of who I am the world must not know.

Do we all have that? That feeling like we can’t share it all or we’d be voted off the island? Cancelled.

We will never know because we don’t talk about it.

I think we should. I think we must. I think it will save our souls and bring us greater happiness on this material plane than any possession or obsession.

Truth. I ache for it. To give it and receive it. When I give it, on this page or in real life, I am most at peace. Completely free. Wings unclipped.

When I put down my pen after a morning pages session, I feel like I am floating.

And that’s just giving the words to blank pages.

What might happen if I give the words to another person?

If I look someone in the eyes and tell them Who I Really Am? Imagine that. It gives me butterflies.

That is what brings me here. I can’t look you in the eyes, but I can feel you.

Our connection. Our oneness.

Maybe you won’t say “oh my god, I can’t believe that about you!”

Maybe you will say “oh my god, me too.”

We all have stories locked up inside us. They are not serving us there.

They need to be shared so they can serve the teller and the receiver.

That’s what brings me here. I can fill my iPhone notes and endless Goggle docs with all the stuff in my head, and that stuff can stay there, never seeing the light of day, because its the process of writing that brings clarity, relief, calm.

But when I share it here, something far greater happens.

Its like talking about ice cream or eating ice cream. There is no comparison. One trumps the other in every way.

I say let’s eat the ice cream, not just talk about what flavors we like.

Every day I challenge myself to bring those musing of my morning pages to light. To not hide any part of me. There is so much pretending and mask wearing and people pleasing and surface stuff in the world. It all makes me want to go full throttle in the other direction. To the deepest and realest truths I can bring. Thats where the connection happens. Where the light comes in, through those beautiful cracks.

Don’t hide them. They are the paths to growth, transformation and connection.

There goes my timer.

Today, intentionally create a moment of discomfort. Say something that makes you squirm inside, but that’s been begging to come out. Share a part of yourself you think you can’t. Watch what happens. Wait for the exhale, the relief, that washes over you.

Always, I’m in this with you.

It’s so much better together.