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nesting

☁️❣️nesting🐦transplanting🌳re-rooooting🌱🗺😌 Happy Spring🐣!! When you’re looking out from a view where hope cannot stay alive, and it looks like hope can never grow there, it takes someone else to remind you hope is possible. It takes help to find help. It takes tiny moments of care. Every kind word, every instance of sharing how you see and finding a new view together. It sends out the potential for growth, ready to latch into root and find strength. It’s messy and unpredictable, this growing thing. For me, when I feel I can’t find words or connect, it’s because it feels the world has grown too big and too far away for anything I say to be worth it. Maybe you’re feeling that too. For me, I needed reminders that it’s worth it to keep trying to connect. So. Here’s yours!!! Chats can bring the world back. It just takes tiny moments of looking out...together. And, to start, all ya need is whatever is in your head right NOW, even if it doesn’t feel like enough. This hope thing...it’s growing underground already for you!!! 🌠 Feeling INCREDIBLY grateful to everyone on my team who makes nesting possible. With the small steps of help that help make help helpful 😄, I am feeeling that community & family joy these days, keeping me strong on days when I can’t keep strong alone. (Swipe to see the definition of a tiiiny Bundle Of Joy, and one who I am very much counting as both community and family🥰)

🎈🩹✨Got an injection of HOPE at my appointment with the future today!!!!!!!!

🎈🩹✨Got an injection of HOPE at my appointment with the future today!!!!!!!! ❣️🌎🌻After a year where the world has been wrenched apart, we look wearily down the long road that leads us back together. We ache to celebrate together, though what we carry within us sits heavily. What we carry makes us tired. As we all walked our versions of isolation this year, we picked up weight that we’ve had to carry, but can’t quite identify. We stopped trying to speak it, stopped attempting to name it. We ache to celebrate together, and looking down this road that might join our paths, maybe we can look together. When we see with the reinforced strength of company, we can name how we feel, together. Everyone’s isolated paths looked different, but maybe they can be healed when that difference is held out. In shaky hands, we look to our neighbours and bring out what we’ve been clutching inside. We hold out these pieces of feelings that have been lying in unseen depths. The parts that crumbled deep within our lockdowns. The strange shapes of feelings that don’t match up to words we know. This year, each of us has known strain that has wrenched us apart. We come back together with power when we bring the delicate fragments of our inner lives, OUT, right along with us. We stumble through together, finding new paths that help us see what we didn’t know how to, alone. What felt so intimidating and unidentifiable, becomes seen. We ache to celebrate togetherness. We ALL know what it is to hurt. Knowing that we all know, we can also all know what it is to look at each other with genuine care that is SO BRILLIANTLY, STAGGERINGLY STRONG, that it reminds us what it feels like to feel, together. Something that, maybe, we’ve never given ourselves the chance to know. Every moment of acknowledgment we share strengthens our ties. See you soon. And until then, I’m glad to see with you from a distance. Keep bringing the distance you feel to the surface. My heart aches with yours, and I celebrate your capacity to care. Thank YOU out there, for being you 💓

Bye old treehouse🏡

Bye old treehouse🏡!Feels special to share a view of the space that’s taken me through such deep isolation. I’ve lived alone for years in different places, though here, I’ve relearnt with new urgency— in the midst of panic, how do we bring our inside views out and keep connected? I’ve been finding versions of home here for a year and a half. The longest I’ve been in one spot siiiince...2012?!? This isolation station encouraged me to confront where I am and where I’ve been by locking down my options into sitting still in the silence of tough times. I found & carried in 99% of this furniture myself from around Toronto streets, &with paint and care it’s all welcomed me into being able to feel settled. Here, I’ve found how to feel safe even when trapped.I’ve felt SO grateful to be here.so I wave bye to this space now with twisting nostalgia, also seeing it as the place where fear grew and isolation became constriction again. Inside, there’s the hidden behind the walls parts. Here’s my view at the window. Looking out. Remembering to make noise. The day before the world shut down i had an audition that felt like home. We chatted, we laughed, i felt welcome. I felt THERE. And I felt WITH people. I was asked to try singing as if I was sitting alone at home. 2 months later, I pressed record while I did just that—in the quiet of quarantine. I was terrified about being heard through the wall and being loud in my own space. In those 2 months, I hadn’t been with anyone to hear me speak aloud for all that time. And it was still just the beginning. A year on from these videos at the window, and here’s that shaky isolation voice, finding home in a heard way. Because of YOU. And. That’s PRETTY MAGICAL. That we can DO that for each other!! Not only can we see together from a distance... but we can even beat the distance of time. Looking with care to let unseen pasts grow with new strength toward the light 🌱☀️ (&Please do enjoy the frolicking jig...accompanied by THE MOST solemn face ya ever did see. Just some embodied pandemic energy, in a static race trying to harmonize with myself& catch up to those melody parts i was able to play in the past🙃

muddling through our moves together📦❣️

Hello, so last week, moving became a thing that could happen aaand, OH HEY!! Well now, here I am sitting in my new HOME!!!!!!! That was backpack bundle #1. There have since been 15 more backpack bundles as I trundle along, moving at walking speed in this solo moving process. Picture 2 is my first day at my old place a year and a half ago😌. Sitting on an empty floor and looking around at where your life might fit is a pretty special moment and this particular floor sit has been...spectacular🔅. Uprooting has been a whirlwind. That handful of hope🗝🔑🌱 (in picture 3) was handed to me about 48 hours after the moving whirlwind in my head came out into the real world and helped me move out too 🚪🎒📦🐣 As my world got smaller again in midwinter, my life went into full personal lockdown as I lost my grasp. Speaking up again felt too hard to be worth the mistakes I knew I’d make in the process, and the fears I didn’t want to show. But oHhhHhh friends, I am so grateful for every second of generous encouragement and patience that helps link me into the world. I AM THRILLED about planting new roots to grow with thriving connection from my new treehouse....as it blooms into a treehome🌿❣️🏡 It’s a beautiful space that makes me excited to do this living thing alongside you all as I cheer you on as well. I haven’t “solved” it. Even as I move away, I know I’m not navigating fully away from fear forever. But. I’m able to talk today, and celebrating the ability to feel confident pulling these letters together right now😌 So. I’m “back”. Still anxious. Still fearful....but also, still moving forward now with new understanding of how to connect when the world seems impossibly distant💬🚪❣️I’ve learnt versions of this before, but I couldn’t use that experience to teach myself out of this level. I usually feel I have to wait until I can look put together about battling through struggles in a well managed way. But it doesn’t look like that. And thinking like that means we create our own barriers that block us from help IN moments of struggle. Thanks for people who give me the security to be insecure. It’s such a pleasure to be muddling through our moves together📦❣️ 🌱

clutter alongside clarity

this morning I’ve been walking taller than i have in a long time. I’ve been holding my head higher. Looking up, even though I’m carrying a heavy head that’s been stuck, dragging me down for a long time. But today, my feet met the ground with solid traction and the earth seemed to help me get just a liiiiittle further😌🌱. Air came into me without quavering and offered lasting energy instead of leaving in fear that’s become so normal, I’ve been forgetting it’s even there. What’s the reason for standing tall today? I don’t think there is one. I know I’m still scared that hope will leave again. I still see each step could be the last before a standstill. My head is still heavy. But in this moment I hold that heaviness with me, letting clutter sit where it falls rather than clutching wildly for content that might replace the load with something lighter. Today, I can let all of this clutter exist alongside the clarity. The pain and hesitation, also a part of the strong steps forward. Steps that feel strong, not because I’m getting further, but simply because I’m here. Grateful to be breathing and looking out toward others doing the same. HEYY out there😃 Thanks for helping me feel strong, thanks for helping me know that today, I can have the power to show up with all of myself present, the good and bad. I’m really glad to be waving at you with hope in a hard time✨💛🌻☀️💫

Celebrating The Ace Lens Of Love

(Repost @the.ninth.path ) Glad for this sharing opportunity thanks to @officialwadebriggs ☺️☀️ These wonderful questions about challenging constraints have helped me think more clearly about how we build our accepting spaces. Since opening up about my Ace perspective in an article 2 weeks ago (link in bio😁), I’ve heard from people who’ve been scared to come out as Ace and my article was able to help us connect and find some shared courage. Then also, I’ve encountered a few challenging and harsh responses from some people who hold deep misunderstandings about what Asexuality is. Both types of response show me just how important it is to keep sharing. Being open about how I see love lets me celebrate all love can be. Sharing my Ace identity is a part of what makes me feel strong and connected. To me, my pride is a sign of a lot of hard work and I hope that by sharing that, maybe self-acceptance feels more accessible to you, no matter what point of confidence you’re working toward💓💓. I feel so excited to be going into the new year finally feeling I can show you this part of me. 💓☀️💜 (And with this video, I am also bravely sharing that I am indeed continually confused about how to pronounce “diagnoses”.......”diagnosis-is-sees”😄⁉️#learning#growth🤣)

All That Love Can Be

🌈😌💜Lockdown can't hold our HEARTS inside!! These are excerpts from my @shedoesthecity article, “How Embracing My Asexuality Helped Me Feel Less Alone”. And with that; lockdown lifted, words OUT😌🎉 I know this topic might be unfamiliar to you. I know that many might glance at the headline and feel some instinctual judgements—even without meaning to, even just in the back of your mind. I just ask that, please, if you do feel some negative assumptions come up, please do try becoming informed. I share this for a reason and it's to offer accesibility to an identity that is too often erased and looked over. The full article is linked in my bio and the screenshots here are just small segments. They're also all out of order because well, truly...I'm just trying to fit in as many confidence-fueling words as I can into view because, right now, the concept of minimal attention spans and maximal prejudice is reeeaally rather terrifying to me. I wrote this because I've recently been able to realize that the Ace lens brings in the presence of a powerful perspective. I do truly believe that understanding this view offers us ALL a stronger understanding of what love and connection can truly be ✨💓✨ (Article originally published here, December 14th 2020) It was Asexuality Awareness Week in October and without typing those words into my search bar, the only added asexual awareness that I noticed was my own squirming tangle of anxiety about the topic. Should I talk about it? Should I be the one to speak up? Would people get it? How many people will have never even heard of asexuality? How many of those same people will be just SO confused about why I think I should share this sort of thing? So I stayed quiet during Ace Week. Judging by the lack of discussion about this topic, it seemed a lot of other Aces were having similar thoughts. It can feel hard to ’’come out’’ when there isn’t a clear place of visibility on the other side of the closet door. That doesn’t mean there’s no Asexual closet; for many Aces, the coming out timeline is measured by how long we can last until the pain of the silence breaks us. I have personally always kept my head down about my own asexuality, although I’ve identified with the term since I was 15. When I first came across the definition of asexuality, I not only instantly identified with it, but I fit the definition so thoroughly that I had absolutely no concept of what it would be like not to fit the definition. I realized I had no idea how the rest of the world experienced sexuality. I still have no idea what sexual attraction actually feels like, even though I live in a world that seems to simultaneously revolve around it while somehow managing to make it an off-limits topic of discussion. For Asexuals, the world can feel like it’s spinning at a different speed. I started to feel comparably lost at about age 10. There was something… unreachable; something about the way in which my peers existed that I could not grasp. It made me scared to grow up. I dreaded getting older. Every birthday seemed like a punishment that banished me further away into an existence apart from the rest of the world. Around the age of 12, all the other humans my age started obsessing over things that didn’t seem real to me. At first it felt annoying– I thought they were just imitating what they’d seen in teen movies. The first time someone asked me if I had a secret crush, I thought, “I know who I want to be friends with. Some people are nicer than others, some are funnier, some are smarter, and I know who looks nicer…” But when they asked me who I thought was ‘hot’ I had no concept of what the answer could be. I waited for what I’d thought to be fictional to get real for me. Meanwhile, every movie, every book, every song, and every human plotline revolved around a focus I didn’t know. I waited to grow into the understanding of this missing piece and become a full human. I didn’t. To an asexual who hasn’t learned of this identity yet, it can feel like hiding is a part of life. Pretending becomes natural and constant. It’s a life so desperately invisible that there is no language to bring it into view. I became completely sure that being the way that everyone else in the world seemed to be would never be possible for me. It hurt too much to try and fit, and I became desperate to stop trying. By the time I was 18, I’d had 3 inpatient admissions to Youth Psych Wards. In the initial research that mapped the flow of attraction through The Kinsey Scale, there were numbers from 0 to 7 that marked heterosexual identities to homosexual identities onto this full spectrum of attaction. There was also a significant portion of interview subjects who did not experience any attraction to anyone. They were marked with an X, gathered as connected anomalies, and put to the side of the graph. Off to the side, anyone who knew the world through the same lens as ‘group X’ did, grew up feeling wrong, broken, inhuman, and unable to exist with the world on this graph of love. At nineteen years old, while living in the middle of New York City, one day I found my home at the center of the world swarmed in a rainbow. From the window of my apartment I watched the vibrant chaos of the Pride parade from a place that seemed like a safe distance from the tidal waves of colour. It made me feel too young. Too small. Too wrong. I still had not grown into the colourful life that the rest of the world lived in. I still couldn’t understand it. Even though I didn’t see the way I felt love represented in the Pride Parade that day in New York, I knew that I had a lot of love to give, and that my love belonged to that flag. I just needed a place to put it, to plant it, and to grow it. For asexuals, the key to opening the closet door is the grounding knowledge that we are not alone; to know that outside of the asexual closet there is a destination where one can exist wholly, feeling the freeing confidence of believing in your own capability to love. In the 90s, the internet brought with it the potential for that knowledge. Through their fear and self-doubt, people started to find ways to share their varied human-experiences with one another. People whose experiences had previously gone unseen and unrepresented threw anonymous airplane messages into the screen world. Those messages were caught, understood, answered, and reflected back. In this reflection, those who had up until this point lived invisibly were finally able to see themselves in others’ experiences. Through the safety of anonymity, a space for authenticity was found. Group X found each other. As Angela Chen in her new book Ace has put it: “The ace world is not an obligation. Nobody needs to identify, nobody needs to stay forever and pledge allegiance. The words are gifts. If you know which terms to search, you know how to find others who might have something to teach.” It’s been 25 years since asexuality gained recognition, and asexuality is still battling its way into mainstream media. Looking at life through the asexual lens offers us the opportunity to expand our understanding of what the world is and of what it can be. When we work to see together alongside others who have alternative opinions and viewpoints, we forge a bridge across the distances we feel by celebrating our differences. Asexual awareness is essential and beneficial to us all. In the past few years, I’ve been growing acceptance for who I am, and the Asexual identity helps me to do that. I spent years feeling like I’d never be complete, believing that I could never grow correctly. And now, while I feel a sense of grounding acceptance in the roots of who I am, I know that it isn’t about growing into something. I’m not waiting to be complete… I can be complete as I am. I see this work as the direction we are all moving toward in the acceptance of our rainbow of experiences. Humans experience attraction on a spectrum. We might have the same labels all our life or we might find that the way we are drawn to others changes over the course of time. With that there comes the opportunity to come out into new versions of freedom. Ace people are not ‘lacking’ in love. Ace love is PRESENT in a beautiful and unique way. No matter who you are or how you identify, it’s the way you see love that matters. During times when the heart is strained, times when it hurts to keep going, we listen to hear the echoes of others who voice their differences over the distance that they also feel, and there forms a space to feel, together. This is why we need to talk. To shout out our pride. To celebrate the full force of ALL that love can be. There’s more to love than any one person can know. As we listen to one another and begin to broaden our knowledge of love, our hearts will collect the strength to connect with hope. When ‘group X’ finds one another and is able to express how their love presents itself, the rainbow strengthens.

Theatre Beyond the Walls, With a Door

"Backspace until it's...blank." Until about 5 years ago, I'd back away from showing anything that didn't feel whole, complete or ready. The problem there is...well, nothing's ever truly complete. There is no complete, whole stage to get to. The process and doubts are as whole as we are. So, showing all of that matters. Because if you don't show that... you back away from ever showing anything. That is exactly what I did for a very long time. It escalated until I truly could not face showing myself. At all. I was writing a play about self-isolation... and then March came and 'self isolation' became the way of the world. I'm working to tell my story about learning to be open, even when I felt impossibly distanced. The process of finding words is messy and scary but it's all a part of the beautiful signs of growth- the kind that battles to be seen through harsh conditions and sprouts. When we see it, we know "there's a sign of life". Being strong enough to show the truth of the struggle reminds us we're alive and brings us closer, letting our humanity overpower whatever screen, doubt or wall that attempts to separate us. After 8 months where I can count the in-person conversations I’ve had, but can't count the number of days when I haven't spoken out loud at all… I had the gift of what was very likely the best week of my life. A week workshopping my play at Theatre Passe Muraille. This week called upon every ounce of strength in me. There were moments when I felt paralyzed in panic, thinking that it might require more strength than I have in me. Classic "best week of my life" material, right!? :-) But the fears and doubts existed in the company of trust. Even amidst uncertainty, my doubt had the chance to be present, but not in power with trust's reassuring presence leading the way. In this brilliant workshopping week, I was offered the chance to jump just a liiiitle beyond my abilities with the safety net of creative support that comes with a caring team. This revitalizing energy of collaboration is theatre's link that connects us all over the distance and establishes new possibilities. Whether the distance of that fourth wall is a seat away, or a city away. We care. We listen. We keep telling and creating stories. We keep connecting our minds and hearts. Here's a look through my view of the week with some in-progress thoughts I had while working through the in-progress telling of my story: After 8 months of isolation, I was gifted the best week of my life. It led up to Toronto's second complete lockdown. It had been too long since I'd been with people in a place where I could care and feel cared for. I know that what I got to experience this week was a boost of energy and love that will be helping me through the Winter. I also know it was an immense priviledge to experience being in a real space with real people. If reading this is feeling a little annoying at this point because, "YES, we all get it! Being with people feels a little bit magic and we MISS it!"...Well, I'm already there with ya again. It's been over a week since I've spoken to anyone in person and, what I hope this show can eventually do, is address how we can find pieces of that magic of closeness even from a distance. As best as we can, through the current barriers that hold us back. I do hold onto the belief that, over a distance, we can feel together through the depths of loneliness and into a shared space of hope. To get closer when there's a screen in the way, we have to bring who we are inside right out into the open as much as we possibly can. We have to bring our experiences of our isolation right to the surface. When we are thoughtful together, we exist in company. TPM created a place of safety and thoughtfulness and everyone seemed to feel it. COVID protocols were carefully followed and check ins were frequent and open. As we sought to explore themes of distance and connection, we felt the genuine presence of our designer, Lindsay, who helped our space find its visuals all through zoom and from the distance of Stratford. True accessibility is about having your abilities met where they already are. In our team debrief meeting, Indrit noted that, we've been putting lots of focus on how to make Lindsay more present in the room when the question is how do we make the room more present for her. Working with a team that thinks this way creates hope and strength in absolutely everyone involved. It's a place where you know you will be heard and valued for the way you see and think and what you can offer, matters. What you can't offer, well that doesn't matter quite so much. When I was struggling, trying to scramble an ability to force re-writes when I only write in tiny moments of energy spurts, I knew I could be open and truthful about it to my director/dramaturge, Marjorie. She responded with, "we continue at your pace". Marjorie and Indrit have created this BUZZ Development framework to "place the art and artist at the centre". I heard them speak this in their introduction seconds before walking into view of a livestream where I would voice some of my most vulnerable moments to three cameras and to whoever had the link. After hearing them phrase it this way, I felt a sense of home, safety and very strong connection. Beyond the walls. This week helped me see, by example, what I struggle with and where I need extra help. While researching NVLD for the show this Neurodevelop.com article phrased the importance of people for those with NVLD this way: A pretty drastic and grim prognosis, but it indicates the sense of the impossibility I face when the only way I learn is around people. With nvld I only learn with example. I imitate based on all the versions of reaction and interaction that I have stored in my database. This week gave me the chance to tangibly hold and sort information that was tangling conceptually in my head. The most important thing for anyone who has NVLD, is being able to voice the process. I need to talk it out (...and out and out). Neurodevelop.com also has a rather good description of this too --> Every day I was handed a mic, and I was offred the space to talk it out as well as the space to be unsure of how to talk it out. The week was essential for the way I think, letting verbal problem-solving pair with the support to try linking the non-verbal, physical reality of my play. By the end of the week, I started understanding what works and making those edits to get right into the action. The care and consideration shown to me and my story by every member of this team has helped me to go far beyond the place I was straining from alone. Where my abilities end, theirs come in and create follow through. It was a way through to the other side, after over a year staring down the same wall. Beyond the walls, there's a door. Everyone sharing their thoughts has helped me to extend my thinking. Everyone. Thank you Marjorie, Rinchen, Merlin, Nicole, Lindsay, Echo, Christopher, David, Eric, Indrit, Emily, Ceridwen, and Kourtney This week, I got to extend my hope and thoughts further than I thought possible. Thank you for helping my ideas and confidence grow. Thank you Passe Muraille for making this exploration possible. And thank you to Toronto Arts Council - Open Door Strategic Funding, Tangled Arts, and Ontario Arts Council for their additional support.

Feeling Open Before Lockdown, Round 2

This week has been a full-hearted whirlwind💓. Looking toward tomorrow’s lockdown, I am holding hope from the feeling of sharing the story behind these words: “There’s a room. A box. Inside this box there’s a feeling running around. It’s a feeling that sprints in and down and twists tight, but it’s also a feeling of what nothingness feels like. So it’s hard to know there’s a feeling there at all. I catch a hold of what it is. I’ve known its opposite now...So I think I finally understand what this is. It’s a feeling that I think...I think people would try to sort it into the word, ‘lonely’. A word that unravels. It unwinds. It won’t fit in it’s box. It flutters out and escapes. It flaps its fearful wings through all you know. It roots within, becoming a part of all you know. With this word as a key that I hold, I see it connect possibilities toward people. From afar, I feel a part of it. The tug of community linking me back into existence. Apart, but a part of a whole. A feeling of wholeness that is indefinite. Whole, without needing to be complete. When loneliness is voiced, it loses its hold. It moves through to being seen. And loneliness can’t turn our insides to isolation when it’s seen in a shared space of thinking and feeling together.” I don’t yet have the full words for the gratitude I feel. It has brought such immense joy to know this phenomenal experience of collaboration after the strain of solo creation. My heart is beaming in thanks to you, @beyondwallstpm@magicalmudge@indritk@callmerewa@limpvvrist@nic.ej.bell@echoaroundtheworld@coleenshirin. Thanks for helping my ideas grow in the company of yours. Thanks for helping this story discover its visual voice 😌🌱 Thank you TPM, @tangled_arts@torontoartscouncil and @ontarioartscouncil for supporting this project.

Hope Grows Underground

☀️A bit of light in the right moment and our surroundings align to create meaning that echoes and grows over time. This photo is from last summer when, by chance, I sublet Coleen’s stunning home while she was away. I didn't know her then. I do now. And it turns out she's a rather spectacular person☺️✨. She thinks in a wonderful way and it helps me think too. Like right now, our coincidental friendship makes me think about how moments mean more than we can ever see from the view we have when we’re inside them. As light changes and shadows alter, the map ahead finds new paths that we never could have drawn ourselves. Hey you out there, I bet you're creating some deeply impressive impressions at this very moment. Hope grows underground and blooms in places where we didn’t even know we’d planted it🌱🌿💫

Passe Muraille Artist Residency

I’m thrilled to share the overwhelmingly joyful news that I’m working with Theatre Passe Muraille as an Artist-in-Residence. I’ve wondered whether I can be enough for this opportunity. Do I know enough, am I ready? But I write to celebrate the growth of our ever-changing identities. The show I’m writing is about finding the courage to speak as you are and letting words weave alongside you. It is about finding a sense of home within yourself as you let yourself grow. As an Artist-in-Residence, my ‘self’ is welcomed into a space where I’m met as I am. I can reside in a place where the expression of imperfection is celebrated. How do we navigate distances that exist within us? What happens when our lives wander into a timeline that feels parallel to the world? How do we escape self-isolation when it’s an eternal feeling that begins inside and spreads through all of our interactions? What happens when we share this solitude? I’ve always struggled with communication. I think a lot about how to share in an authentic way while fitting in with what’s expected. My struggle to connect through a learning disability and mental illness led me to an isolation that accompanied me constantly. This opportunity gives us a chance to think through the depths of loneliness, together. Multiple solitudes, showing themselves in full. A message sent out across the distance of isolation. This is what theatre offers us. A communal place to think together and see each other into existence. We all face limitations in our daily communications. When we speak the differences we feel, the distance eases. Currently, theatre is also tackling the limitation of distance. How do we connect across the barrier? While apart, we can still think together. We feel compelled to do so with even greater strength and focus. A message from the stages of our mindsets, sent out into the air with hope. This is a chance to feel together beyond the walls 🥰💫. I’m thrilled to be a part of #TPMNavigatingTheNow Thank you @magicalmudge@indritk@limpvvrist and all the TPM team for believing in me and establishing safety in vulnerability. Thank you @tangled_arts and @ontarioartscouncil for your support.

Showing the "broken" parts

It’s a year since I got to see art that had been with me for years printed onto tote bags and sold at @dearevanhansen to fundraise for @jackdotorg and @kidshelpphone. Last year, when writing about this experience, I wrote about what the message to “Step Into The Sun” meant to me as someone whose anxiety and depression had led to in-patient admissions in psych wards as a teenager. As I wrote about it then, I wished I could link in an explanation about WHY I share this information, how I feel when saying those words– “psych ward” - and what it means to know they are attached to the path my life has taken. Now I do have an article that shares these views! Thanks to @shedoesthecity those words are published, here. This morning, I was listening to the @thesparkfile podcast chat about kintsugi, the art of broken pieces. In this practice, broken pottery is connected back together with melted gold that leaves a visible golden scar. This process creates something even more valuable than when the pottery was “whole” or “perfect”. The label of the ‘psych ward’ is the visible evidence that I faced a time when I felt broken. I mention these times with pride because they show how I have come together. The process of seeking help and learning to accept feelings of sadness in a positive way saved my life and brought me new life that I am proud of. When I am open and “lead with the worst of me”, I have the freedom to share that those lows have become a part of the best of me. This is what it is to “step into the sun”. As we connect over distance these days, it does take ‘waving through a window’ to make sure that everyone feels seen and heard. Sending light your way, and please know you can always step into the sun and find that your best light is there to show all the stages of you and who you are. ⚡️☀️💌🌱