One of the biggest and most sacred things I’ve found for myself this year, is love.
Not for myself, my family, friends, career, life, or purpose, but in and with another person.
And the feeling of falling is scary as hell. Heck, I’ve resisted it my whole life. I never thought I needed or wanted it. I was always so focused on myself and my career and dreams and goals. I got attention my whole life but never gave in. I never worried for it because I knew that it’d show up for me someday, when I was ready. And I’m just glad that I trusted myself and my intuition, all throughout.
The slow burn: perhaps my motto of my life for the past year and a half (inspired by Kacey Musgraves herself).
“I was sitting on my porch one night [in Summer 2017]. I might have been in a little bit of an altered state, but I just had a little bit of an open mind and open heart, and the words “slow burn” came to me.
It’s just an ode to the pace of something unfolding in a nice and slow way. I thought to myself, “The best things in life are a slow burn — something you enjoy the journey of.” It doesn’t always have to be about getting to the end, about what gets there the fastest; it’s just kind of about enjoying the ride along the way.
I can apply that to a lot of different areas of my life — like, my career, taking my time. Nothing’s a race; do something that’s right for you because it feels right. Relationships. Friendships. I was thinking, even in the drink in my hand — enjoy it, don’t knock it back. That’s kind of where [the song] came from.”
Kacey Musgraves, “Diary of a Song” for The New York Times
My approach towards love hasn’t been like most. I grew up with a single mother and never saw a model of partnership presented to me my whole life. Being independent and on my own was second nature. The feminist in me loved it. “I don’t need no man,” became a strong motto for me in the way I approached my life, as I grew influenced by the many fearless women in music, entertainment, and people of color who felt a strong, dire need to stand up for their own in name of representation.
But love? It’d come to me when I’d be open and willing.
And holy hell have I fallen.
I’ve frequently said on here that when I commit to something, I commit. I can be indecisive about a lot of things in my life, yet when I feel so strong and sure about something, I don’t back down. I’m committed, devoted, and hopelessly in love.
“I’ve always been incredibly self aware.”
“You really are.”
“And I’ve always been careful and pay attention to what is and isn’t good for me…. You’re good for me.”
Being friends for years before I would ever give in, is something so of my nature. When I’ve become so used to befriending all I meet as I was “one of the guys” who naturally got along with boys better since I grew up with two older brothers, I openly let everyone in. I never sought any approval or validation in others. Rather, I sought that in myself, because I knew I wanted to be in a whole, healthy and happy place with myself, first, to truly be ready to let someone in.
I’d lose some after some would grow feelings for me, obviously. And I’d let them go peacefully, as I’ve never been one to want to play any games because I know very well how that kind of heartbreak can feel.
To let someone in, after I’ve entertained and befriended so many, grew tired of the independent girl living alone in L.A. act since coming here in 2017, and all the things I’ve learned about myself and the growing. pains and people and things that can hurt you and all the backbone I’ve developed, is just wild. It makes me emotional for that girl who was always full of so much love and light and joy… because I just wanted her to be happy, as lost as she was trying to find herself in all the things and ventures and people she put herself into before she would even give that to herself.
A progression of my mental health, from 2017 to now:
I’ve found that when you finally feel safe, you can really just kind of bloom.
I’ve finally been letting myself know what it feels like to let go and open up, come to terms with my life and my journey and what these past five years since leaving home for LA have taught me. I’ve learned to build a life that is much more my speed, aligned with my heart, the simple pleasures, simple joys, and to come back home to myself.
Sometimes I don’t even know how I fell into this: two whole people who never needed anything from each other. I’m the most private and selective and emotional person in the world, but God my heart hurts so good.
“I just think you’re cool,” goddammit.
And when life gets the best of us, and you begin to overthink and over-worry everything, and the fears creep in, and I tell you I’m not used to having someone and get so caught up in the moment and live life so loud and proud, ceasing every moment, chasing my joys, forgetting about reality yet giving myself grace through every hardship and struggle and moment… It means a lot to know that I’m not in this alone.
And I don’t have to be.
With love and honesty,
Rachel
beauty within 