Today, as I stood in the kitchen, sipping coffee between a rush from one studio task to the next, between the pings of hammer strike and the crunch of saw tooth, I took a moment to look at myself in the mirror.
This week hasn't been easy.
Some days I don't feel like I'm accomplishing all that I should.
Some days I see my reflection and it's hardly recognizable.
Some days I avoid contact with the entire world only to sit and crumble.
Those days where darkness falls to the sides of my eyes like blinders, tight wrapping grips around my shoulders- spiraling down, like a vine to my feet.
Here, I am locked in.
Here, I am faced with only myself and my mind and the only options I know.
Here to mend all that is chapped.
I let it swallow me.
Letting time run through me. Letting second, and minute, and hour, and day, and days find their paths around me. Through my bone. Through everything that is weak within me- pulling needle and thread of forgiveness to myself- to stitch me back together. Even a darn will do.
And I do mend.
And I rise.
And then days come where I swear a thousand tiny bees are tied to strings of sunlight, pulling outward. Every strand from my face, every inch surfaces from my body. And I glow.
And the studio is light.
And every inch of those walls sing.
I saw myself today in my reflection as something more.
Standing here in my apron.
Muscle showing from the simple act of holding a cup.
Bones in my face, holding more than the simple sign of a small woman who works hard. Who doubts too much. Who is chronically hard on herself.
Today I saw pure strength.
I saw courage.
And I recognized it.
You are here.