Once again I find myself typing here, populating my corner of the internet with words that I seldom believe worth the effort. It seems like a lifetime ago that I was at the helm of The #WCW Project and even longer still that I harboured the feeling that that project could really do some good. I am currently sitting in bed as I type this, watching my cat wander through the apartment with a ball of paper in her mouth. I have a smile on my face watching her, and yet there is a sadness tugging at me.
I was flicking through Facebook before I started typing this, which is not something I do very often anymore, but I was reminded of so much that I had forgotten about. The last seven months have been such a whirlwind given the fact that I met and then married the absolute love of my life within that period, so I am not surprised that I had forgotten so many things. I forgot that I made a Fruit Loop slice that was smothered in sprinkles. I forgot that I made my best friend birthday cupcakes that even I didn't think would turn out so fucking delightful. I forgot that I had started a manuscript, only to discard it just as quickly. I forgot about all the magnificent books I read though their spines are currently facing me right this very moment, collecting the lightest film of dust. I forgot about the beginning stages of the Cliterature Club, when once again I truly felt that it could be the catalyst of change for so many people's lives.
But what I really forgot? I forgot how much energy and passion and lust and desire and creativity that I met each and every day with. I clicked through photo after photo and was met with different dishes I had made, recipes that I had made up (like the whiskey apple pie I made, which was at least 98% whiskey), people I had brought together, handmade gifts I made for the people closest to me, conversations I had with women who inspired me. It were as if I were looking at photos from someone else's life all together. Surely I am not the same person who travelled to Canberra to meet my sporting heroes, surely I am not the same person who met Celeste Barber or spoke on the phone to Nicole Alexander or was told by Jenny Lawson that I "rock so hard".
And it isn't as if it were even that long ago that that was my reality, not long ago at all. And I get that things change. God, if anyone knows the ferocious force that is change, it's me. My entire world/universe/soul/life has been turned upside-down by one incredible man. Meeting Matt shuffled my atoms around, he shook me to my very core and allowed me the space to truly be the woman I am. It has been hard letting him see all of me, letting him see beyond the walls I built around me for years. But what has happened is that I am not hiding any more, not hiding my quirks or my sometimes inappropriate laughter. So surely, surely that will lend itself to me being able to completely harness my creativity and doing something with it. Something big and wonderful and bold and completely mine. SURELY. And of course there are other factors at play that I have had to devote my attention to; Mum and her partner are opening up a new cafe that Matt and I are a big part of, I am without an income while the cafe is being renovated, one of my ovaries decided to explode and in between all that, I went to New York. So yeah, there hasn't been a whole lot of time for me to breathe uninterrupted, let alone write or create or bake or make. But as everything settles down, including behavioural traits and fears of mine, I am finding that my desire to create is becoming unmanageable. It feels like my head is going to explode if one more idea decides to reveal itself.
Something that Matt loves about me is how often I get goosebumps. I tend to feel a lot. What gives me goosebumps the most, and he will attest to this, is women coming into their own power. So if I watch a movie, or a news segment, or read a book or hear of something in real life that is about a woman standing up for herself, or relishing in her talent, or achieving something magnificent, or simply complimenting their own selves, my entire body is riddled with goosebumps. Matt often fears that I will, in fact, turn into a goose one day, feathers and all.
I have always struggled with discovering what my purpose is. Though I work at the cafe, I don't feel that it is what I was put on this Earth to do. Though I have held a lot of different role sin the workforce, none of them have sung out to me THIS IS WHAT YOU SHOULD BE DOING. Nothing fills me with a sense of purpose like I felt when I pressed publish every week for The #WCW Project, or when the women of The Cliterature Club walked through the doors with a plate of food under their arms and books in their bags.
I know that there is a way to combine these two forces to create something big.
And maybe, just maybe, I'll come into my own power, give myself goosebumps for a change, and morph into a goddamn goose once and for all.