Yearning lives in a space of wanting more, which we have framed–at least in American culture–as meaning you currently exist in a space of lack. Not having something you want? Bad. Shameful. Uncool. If you’re yearning, are you keeping up with the Joneses? The Spaldings? The McDougals? If you yearn, what ways can you blame yourself for not having?

One of the hardest parts of trying to build community amongst any group of humans is the way we all are wounded before we come to the table of relationship. While my team and I set our sights on something emotionally meaningful as well as debauched and fun, we all brought our own issues to the table. This is something I experienced time and again in nightlife all across this country. Human beings are just messy. I yearn for committed and deep human connection, but I’ve got baggage–insecurity, self-doubts, manipulative tendencies, people pleasing, etc. When you throw liquor, late nights, and a need to be profitable into the mix, you’re certainly up for a challenge. 

TW: Suicidal ideation. If you or a loved one are struggling with thoughts of self harm, please know there is help for you.

To transform, to surrender to the momentum of your spirit, is a terrifying thing. I often describe it as realizing suddenly that you’re strapped into a rollercoaster but you only know that next is the freefall and the plateau after is nowhere in sight. In these moments, so much of me wants to stay safe and comfy–wants to crawl backwards away from the current of life and towards where I have been–not because it is good but because it is known.

I dog-sit fairly often and I love it. The house I get to stay at is beautiful, the neighborhood is walkable, and most of all the three dogs I sit are incredibly loving and smart. The challenge, however, is that the three of them need specific attention in copious amounts. The youngest is extremely rambunctious and active, to the point that I alone struggle to fulfill his needs unless I can be home with him the entire time he’s awake. The middle dog likes to dig in the trash and will find anything edible (or not so edible) when your back is turned and make it a snack. The oldest dog, much like myself, is a diva who needs to be treated a specific way or she sulks and pouts and gives me wounded glances.

Writing our own story is not just adding on to the narrative. It is also choosing what stays behind on the previous pages. Like a closet or a wardrobe, in order to make room for newness, we must let go of the old. Letting go of who I once was, of the story attached to my legal name, can be painful. That person kept me alive for so many years. He allowed me to walk towards the path that I’m on now, as scared as he was. He sought love and kindness and bravery at every turn, and eventually found grace for himself when he failed.

Each morning, I pull a tarot card and decide on an affirmation for the day. Today, for instance, I pulled the Two of Coins from a deck called “The Naked Truth”. The affirmation that came to mind was: You don’t have to show off to show up. Now, throughout the day, I’ll mull that over and contemplate the myriad ways it could apply to me or my loved ones. It’s a practice I love, but I’ve often pondered “Why tarot?”

Transformation is a great challenge. Transformation is a terrifying thing. I do not think the caterpillar knows it will become a butterfly before it spins its chrysalis. Maybe it hopes, as we all do. Imagine, however, the fear of burying yourself, shutting out the world, only to know that the fight through will require great strength and that you come out on the other side a different person.