Nowhere Is Always Somewhere

A Little Story

Earlier I was thinking, about something I had written:

Direct.

To the point.

Fierce.

Heavy in its essence.

Earlier I was thinking about the importance of this Little Story to me.

How it felt to me to be incredibly important.

The need ‘put it out there’.

That in order for the Little Story to work, it has to be read by those who need to read it.

The women.

And the men.

Who it would serve if they saw it.

As I said – it’s important.

At least to me.

At least in this lifetime.

Maybe in the next – lifetime that is.

Maybe then I won’t need it…won’t need to tell it.

Hopefully.

Then again maybe not.

Perhaps the necessity of this particular Little Story and the life that was lived inside of it was a blessing in disguise. 

Lord knows, the life (that is my life) that thrives ‘out of it’. Is phenomenal compared to it. And perhaps not ‘in spite’ of, but as a result of it.

Call it experience.

Optimism.

And a little backwards logic.

The process of elimination: One must first establish exactly what one DOES NOT want, in order to ascertain exactly what one DOES.

Possibly this particular Little Story is a gift that has served me well.

Allowed me to grow.

Understand what is right and what is definitely wrong.

The cliché that is true.

At least this time.

And to me:

‘What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’.

Sometimes it goes like that – Other times it just hurts.

As I said, earlier I was thinking about something I had written which I haven’t shared.

Not yet.

But I will.

And soon.

Just not today.

And as I’m eluding, I will offer-up the theme:

Gas-lighting and Abuse.

And the guises these take.

Stalking and Harassment.

As I said it gets heavy.

*

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But before we get there a little more about earlier.

Sometimes I get caught…then straighten my guard

Earlier I was thinking about what it means to be a ‘Strong’ woman, the strength it takes to stand-up for yourself.

Stand up for this title ‘Strong Woman’.

Properly.

Deliberately.

In order for it to count.

Despite the fact that ‘they’ may not want to hear it – and they never want to hear it.

When they may call you a liar – and they always call you a liar.

When you’re calling them out.

‘Hysterical and deranged’ – Gets rolled out a LOT.

Cheap tricks for little minds but they can catch you off guard.

And sometimes I get caught.

Then I remember I am ’Strong’.

So I pause.

Then straighten my guard.

*

*

Earlier I was thinking about what it means to me to be called ‘A Strong Woman’.

I get this a lot.

From a variety of women, all different, unique (MUCH more on this later).

And from a specific type of man – From men who are strong.

Earlier I realised: The men who tell me they see strength in me are all men who see strength in themselves:

The charismatic, the powerful, the rich and the famous, the hardworking and loyal, the tough and the trying.

The men who are not scared of women who are like them.

That it’s the weaker man who claims ‘She’s a liar’ – Who wants to trample on her.

Who feels threatened by her.

“There is no need to feel threatened when you believe in yourself”. Said a Strong Man this evening.

‘When you believe in yourself you can believe in her and I believe in myself so I believe in you’.

Another just yesterday: ‘Share your story, you have a responsibility, not everyone can do it’.

And three days ago: ‘You are naturally strong, a lot of women are just pretending… but you have it, naturally’ – He who is incredible, such talent, he helps me believe.

Earlier I was thinking about what it means to be seen in this way.

When there are women AND men.

How safer I feel.

How empowered I am when I feel like they ‘have’ me.

How knowing they’re there helps me to stand-up.

For myself.

And for her.

For our Little Stories.

We come as a team and that’s how this works.

Even if ‘they’ don’t want to hear it.

Especially when ‘they’ don’t want to hear it.

*

*

‘Even when you’re in the middle of ‘nowhere’ you’re always somewhere’

Earlier the kid asked me: ‘mamma what you thinking? You’re pulling that face’.

I smiled and pulled the face just to make her laugh.

(it’s teeth resting on lip – glasses on the nose).

I told her I was thoughtful about putting ‘my truth out there’.

‘But Mamma’ she said.

‘You always speak the truth and besides you have somewhere to put it.’

I smiled.

She continued: 

‘And do you know? You can never ever be nowhere. Even when you’re ‘in the middle of nowhere’ you’re ALWAYS ‘somewhere’.

She’s six.

It was powerful.

I wrote a book, found my somewhere, started this blog to say YOU – You are not nowhere.

We’re in this together whatever they say.

Caught between nowhere and somewhere – 

There’s always a place.

A space.

Earlier I was thinking about the power of the collective.

Of how it can serve.

Help us to believe.

In Her.

In Him.

In YOU.

In Me.

In We.

In our Little Stories.