FloralSuncat

I’m barely on Tumblr, but when I am, it’s not performative. It’s not for distraction. It’s not to fucking doom scroll. Same thing with YouTube. There’s a purpose and once it’s fulfilled I get off it and back to life.

When I post, it’s to share. Not for likes. Not for popularity. Not to be an “influencer”. Just to share. Authentically. I’m fine with 0 likes. I do hope what I share reaches those it should. But it doesn’t *have to*.

I have more attention for REAL THINGS again. Like bloody reading. INSPIRATION. Oh my Good Gods, fucking inspiration. Do not get me started I could go ON GIRL!! How in the world…you’d think having my IG feed filled with artists and poets would be inspiring…nope. I was living through them and not myself. They took the space my own inspiration should have filled. My creativity is coming back online. This is not to say gleaming the work of others can’t be inspiring, but doing it all day while doomscrolling is not it babes. Not it.

I feel like a fucking human again. Living life. Not watching it through my phone screen of other’s perceived lives. Feeling awful about myself. Oh and looking back on my own feed judging myself for not being that thin anymore, or where did my youth go? Or even longing to be back in that era again. Presence was being suffocated from all angles.

I hope this reaches those who this resonates with. Those who need a cheerleader and a pep talk into the beauty of just deleting the feed off your phone. I hope when you read this you understand and appreciate that my phone no longer has thoughts and is just a tool again. Think about that for a second. Meditate on it. The feed gives your phone judgment, thoughts, a voice in a sense. When you pick it up and take in the information from your feed it’s sending an internal monologue that is not yours into your mental sphere.

Make social media a location again, if anything. Put it on your iPad or computer. But not ever again on your phone.

I’m so much happier and more myself everyday since doing it.

I want to be soft. I want to walk in my power with gentle firmness.

I never see anything regarding walking in our soft feminine. It’s always about finding strength to overcome obstacles. What about HER?! Where is SHE?! I want Her to come through more. I want to overcome obstacles in soft and gentle ways. Without losing my strength and authority.

Put a little wiggle in it. Don’t take life too seriously- I know, trust me, even now. Even with *him* in office. Wiggle. Wiggle like your life depends on it, because it does. As best you can…get wiggy with it. I mean it.

To keep self from joy only adds more suffering to an already suffering world. It does not do anything to bring joy back. It’s counterproductive.

For the sake of the collective: FIND YOUR WIGGLE DAMMIT.

May the Winter in it’s wake,

The heaviness it will take,

Frostbitten heartstrings,

For Spring’s sake.

So long. Farewell. To you my friend.

The abandonment and shallow sorries.

Spring will bud and Summer will bloom.

In one week, three days time. May I shed the past with Winter. May I say goodbye to things too heavy for the new year. So mote it be.

The light and warmth and renewed energy is here. Let my spirit rise with the budding trees to the songs of the morning birds. ✨🌞

Since childhood I always yearned for my 30s. (I was an odd child, ok) I had this wisdom beyond my years that told me when I reached my 30s I would love myself in ways not many women do. I would understand who I am, and enjoy being in my skin. This thrilled me. It got me through my 20s, which were insecure and reeked of an identity crisis. On my 30th birthday, I was the happiest I have ever been. I felt the shift one expects to feel on their birthday. It was magic. It did take a bit for my 30s to settle in. But I certainly felt the change.

Enter 33. Saturn return had come and gone. And I was prepared. I harnessed that energy and learned what I had. I caught up to my age (after being stunted from a rough upbringing) and no longer felt like a 20-something stuck in the body of a 30-something.

Problem was, they don't tell you what feeling like your age actually feels like. For me, I feel the weight of age. I no longer feel it possible to be "sprightly" like I had in the past. I could no longer carry myself with that effortless effervescence I once had. I feel the power in my age along with the full bodied power of a Woman, capital W. When standing next to my younger coworkers, I feel the energy difference. Although, I get mistaken for a 25 year old every day, I no longer can carry myself like one; and that bugs me.?.

I am 35 in July. And I struggle in a way completely unexpected. I struggle to carry this wondrous womanly body in a confident manner that is effortlessly powerful. Internally I am confident in my abilities, totally self-sufficient and independent in a way little me feels so safe with and proud of. But the mirror, photos...and...v i d e o s, are not my friend. I see this awkward, dumpy person I do not recognize.

The weight of age...I do not mean physical (although, that does tend to come with it) I mean mentally, emotionally, energetically. How one carries themselves. My internal weight is foreign to me now, she's big. Like big BIG. Meanwhile, I'm only 5'3". I have big girl presence in tiny lady body. Its awkward and difficult to navigate.

To those navigating the weight of age, I hear you, I am you. We are in this together. And also, congrats. We matured. Despite the odds against us- we did it. Something our mothers weren't able to achieve. Its a good problem to have- it means we grew up. Now, to fly the magical things. Ha.

{A story}

I mean, I don’t like it- you’re not part of my life. You abandoned me again. It’s a week before your birthday and the letter you claimed you’re sending (a month ago) never came.

He represents your core father wound. You never knew a strong male figure in your life. Enter him. But he’s taken up your whole life. You’re changing into such a self-absorbed person, again. I wish this was the first time- the only time. But we know this dance, don’t we sister?

First it was M. Your childhood “bestie”, who oozed toxic masculinity that duped us both. And when he went all mentally abusive towards me, you didn’t believe me. You chose him. Until of course, he did it to you too after you cut me off.

Now it’s T. The boyfriend. The super impressive for his age guy who reads like a frat boy met a yogi- it’s insufferable, truly. But I did my best, until of course he wouldn’t stop with the insensitive jokes on my birthday. Which in fact you played along with. Despite me being upset. And now, enter our yearly tradition of new years tea, gone. Why? Well because you just had to “fight for your relationship” and go to a gods damn hockey game with him instead.(after he just broke up with you two weeks before Thanksgiving because he couldn’t understand what it means to slow down)

You say you don’t understand why we couldn’t do new years tea on another day. Yet here I am not understanding how you don’t see how you’ve changed into a self-centered, self absorbed jerk, for the second time. I saw it happening with mom, I should have said something then and I didn’t. And now, I don’t have you. But that’s not my fault. That’s not on me. Sis, that’s on you. If me holding you accountable for making me collateral damage hurts, that’s between you and yourself.

You need to heal that father wound. I get it.