I am in my second week of an online six week women's intuitive writing group, and my word bank is feeling the post tax time blues. I've been taxed. I am loving the experience and meeting so many incredible women from all over the globe. But I am finding that I cannot find enough words to fill all the spaces of my writing. Everyone has been seeing so much less of me. I apologize.
When I planned to participate, it was my intention to share what I've written there on those pages on my blog. But I've found that space is open for the rawest parts of me to climb out. It immediately became a secret, divinely holy place where I could dig deep. That's hard for me to do. Not the digging deep. I've built those muscles well over the years. But feeling the safety to put it into words in the world outside my own head, for which I am accountable forever. Words can't be taken back. To process, out loud with witnesses, is an act of bravery beyond measure for me. And I am in the company of rocking women. I am teetering on new found legs. And I am awed by what they share. This came at a perfect time in my life.
Tomorrow is my fourth and last infusion of my first chemo drugs. My body is holding strong. Cause you know, I'm a bad Mama Jama!