You’re not lost. Not yet.
You’re just waiting for someone else to find you.
You want them to recognize what you are, and relay the message.
Music and movement open you up for seconds, minutes, maybe even hours…
And then you return to your oyster. Safe. Closed. Clamped shut.
Your friends call it turtling, because the world is a scary place, and burying your chin into your shirt collar makes you feel safer.
You are terrified. And that’s okay.
You have no idea what comes next, but you expect the worst.
Stuck in your ways, burrowing into your blankets with quiet despair,
I see you.
I want you to know, no matter how alone you feel, how small, how unsettled and unmoored,
You know better.
You will remember, in time,
That you are worthy of all the things you don’t believe you deserve.
And the only way you will ever find out exactly what you are made of,
Is by making something new, and having the courage to share it.
Lean into fear.
You’ve got this, little one.
It’s safe to come out now.