My Secret World

I’d rather teach my daughter how to embrace her wild than teach her how to be ashamed of her body or how to feel guilty for being a woman.

If you want to know what it’s like to survive hell and still come out shining brighter than the sun, just look into her eyes.

Have you ever noticed when you hand over a new pen to someone to write with, how the first thing they will usually write is their own name? We do this on misted car windows, on frosted glass, etched on tables, carved into the trunks of trees, whether it is our initials, or our names. I guess we all share a common fear. The fear of being forgotten.

Sometimes it feels like you are holding a dam together with superglue and behind it is a giant ocean of pain and all you have is this is superglue for the cracks in the cement. The trickles of pain through those cracks are enough to terrify you, but everyone around you seems oblivious, thinking, well you look like you’re holding it together, you look like you’re healing…so you must be fine.

Girls like her were born in a storm. They have lightning in their souls. Thunder in their hearts. And chaos in their bones.

Some people just shine a bit brighter than others and it’s got nothing to do with what they look like.