The restoration

today.every day.forever

nicole.bretall

6/27/2021 2 min read

It has been a week of restless decisions and woeful reckonings. Not that everything restless or woeful my inherently be bad, negative or something to be avoided. I find that these decisions, these reckonings are being drawn up, boiled up, unearthed, excavated, exhumed from a place within me that can't keep quiet any longer. This place that has been hidden away for one day too long and now isn't going back in the shadows. This place that says no more to the choices that aren't really mine. And no more to the days that i believe the tall tales of unforgivable, unworthy, and uninspired. and i am not delusional and i know that there will be moments of this. but i will not stand for days, weeks or years. the moments can come and go, as they will. but i will not hold on to them as my anchor, my north pointing south, my black hole at the end of the tunnel - no more. 

my restless decisions look like moroccan rugs and buffets turned into cabinetry

my woeful reckonings look like moments of shame, feeling undeserving, feeling like the voice inside me needs to be silenced, that i need to hide any imperfections, anything i might not fully possess, any knowledge that might not yet be swimming in the stacks of learned lessons in my brain. 

but i am done not having a voice. or being told how my voice should sound. the short stories, the poems. the mixed up letters on the page that no one seems to understand. but i forget about the people who do. the people who see. and maybe that's who i write for. or maybe it's just me that i write for. but does it matter? 

maybe i write and the people who read are the ones who need to read it. maybe i design and the ones who appreciate are the ones need to see it. maybe all that doesn't matter and maybe it's just creating. 

but i'm sick of the masks, the hiding out, the being something that's not. something that is so the invisible negative of not. 

because there is a place for everyone. and somewhere i will find my place, my people, myself. 

because this is not nothing. 

i will keep pulling out the carpet, taking down the exterior siding that somehow found it's way inside. the walls, the floors, the ceilings. they're all coming together. going back to place, places. all back to where they were meant to be all along. 

restoration. return to what once was. return to original form. 

it seems it's both me and the house. 

but i think we'll both be a lot more colorful than originally designed ;)