Acceptance

Dear yous,

I find writing to be a cleansing activity, but it's slow.  It's like Prozac.  It takes a few weeks for the plasma levels to build up and then suddenly there are words on a page and they connect and flow and things are good.  Side effects include emotional outlet, feelings of freedom, satisfaction.

This weekend I had a bang up time and am now feeling sad for the fact that it is over.  Sometimes particularly intense or intimate moments can leave me with with a hangover of sorts in which I feel the vacuum of mundane existence sucking me back down into wanting to be along again.  I don't now, it's not all bad. 

We had a gig this weekend and it felt great to play and then hang out afterwards.  And then get bunch in the morning.  I had long, drawn out moments of feeling myself, just OK to exist in spaces with other people, OK in my body, OK to talk or not.  Felt pretty fucking great. 

Plus, we went to an invite-only event at a person's house downtown last night.  The place was filled with artists and musicians and the types of people I resonate with.  I felt so at home there, just listening to the performances, watching occasionally, but mostly listening.  Feeling the space.  Being there, feeling the air on my face.  Feeling OK in my body and uncomfortable at the same time and feeling OK with that.  Being with my friends.  Feeling like there are communities of people I belong in.  It was beautiful.

Love,
Casey