Ibiza – 6pm – night warmed … hug warmed … and a circle of women that talked about what we wanted from the week.
I wanted to crack – or rather, to be cracked – split – to somehow break … my spirit was tight; emotions held, fingertips gripping the side of a building …
My brain felt dulled, flat. J’étais dégonflée comme un vieux ballon … the ‘grey’ had become a part of me …
Anything beyond the every day felt like it was birthed through wet cement.
So I wanted to be split, because that was the way that I changed. Change needed to be blunt, brusque; it needed to be irreversible or at least have a finality about it.
I have always been slightly suspicious of anything gentle. I preferred hard training, hard massage, clear messaging; all or nothing; black or white; either or
It needed to crack.
I thought that it needed to crack.
Turns out – change can be accomplished more gently.