uncover

I blogged a total of six times last year.

Six.

For my English nerds, that's a number that I have to spell out if I want to remain grammatically correct because it hasn't hit double digits.

What the hell.

When I see it in writing with black, sans serif font, it makes me want to cry.

Not simply because I think there's a magic number out there, but mainly because when I remember the year in all it's detailed glory I didn't skip the writing because I didn't have anything to say.

I skipped the writing because I didn't know how to say it.

As I approached 2019, of course everyone's discussing "words" and "reflections" going to great lengths to relive the year that just made history.

2018 was a hard one. When I approached reflection time to flip through the memories and year in review, I quickly decided "no, thanks."

2018 is a year I'd prefer not to relive.

But I have still been able to approach my reflection time and say "thanks."

When I think back to the loss, the depression, the anxiety, the rejection - it's after a lot of these moments in time that I learned grit.

I learned that my worth and value doesn't rest in something as superficial as coffee dates and social media likes & follows.

I learned that depression is not my portion, but doesn't make me any less loved.

I learned that my body is really f*cking smart and when I listen to it I have so much to learn.

I learned a lot in 2018, but one of the greatest things takeaways is my words hold value and I have authority to speak truth whether it's grammatically correct or filled with metaphor (my personal preferences.)

Something about Redwoods, is they need fire for survival. A natural fire cycle germinates Redwood seedlings.

A metaphor that contains so much wisdom.

When I originally dreamt up the Redwoods Collective, I had intentions of people writing stories of their dreams and achievements, faults and failures, successes and victories. I had just come out of a flowery season filled beauty and anguish, and I wanted to create a space where people felt the invitation to simply speak.

A place where community is cultivated.

The response I got was a lot more grief and pain.

I got a lot more stories of exposing fires, rather than dreams being met.

And that's more than okay.

But somewhere in 2018, I forgot about the importance of fires.

So my metaphorical seedling is germinating.

I'm a skeleton full of wounds and words and

wisdom.

I'm a spirit with authority.

I'm a voice full of sonnets.

And 2019 will be a year of shedding off

layers of lies

to uncover

and expose

what's been withheld for

liberation

and

restoration.