I wrote 15 pages in my journal this morning. In my journal, and not here, because not everything belongs here.

15 pages worth of emotions and feelings and things I need.

15 pages of forgiveness. For myself and those who have wronged me, or hurt me, or lied to me, or lied about me.

15 pages of letting go of the things that block my heart chakra, and spilling out all the things that block my throat chakra.

15 pages of what I need in my life, the things my body and soul and spirit respond to.

15 pages of empowering myself to thrive and letting myself know it's ok to do the things that make me happy BEFORE I do the things that others need.

15 pages of realizations that I put others and their needs before mine, because anytime anyone would ask me “What do you want?” I never knew the answer to that question.

15 pages of discovery, about myself, my mind, and those of the people I love. People who seldom go so far for me, as I am willing to go for them. Because I will go to hell and back for those I love, even if it kills me. And it almost has a few times. People who already know what they want and expect me to fall in line with their wishes and demands, while never giving anything back. Never exchanging energies, only taking that which I have freely given in the past.

15 pages to realize that I just want to be alone for awhile. No demands but my own. No voice but my own. No sounds but my music. And birds. All the sounds of all the birds. And wind. And running water, and thunder and rain. And the eerie silence of falling snow.

15 pages to realize that while I may have joked about wanting to disappear into the mountains where nobody could find me, I was deathly serious. My heart rejoices at the thought of being alone with Mother Earth. Of time to ground and heal with no interruptions. To hike through the forest. Time to sew and write and sing and play my piano and dance in a creek barefoot. Time to just sit in silence and listen to the wind swirl through the trees for hours, without someone telling me to hurry up.

15 pages to get to the realization that life is short, and there is much to be done when it takes 40 years to learn how to be exactly who you were brought here to be. 40 years to remember who you were when you agreed to live this human experience on Earth. 40 years to remember lifetimes of pain and struggle and the magick through it all.

15 pages to release the old and rest.

15 pages stained with tears and weighed down with the longing I've hidden from everyone who should matter. The longing to simply be able to be.