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The Emma Kate Collection

  • HOME
  • About
  • Connect
  • Archive
    • She
    • The Letter
    • The Outsider
    • Death and Picnics
    • Hands
    • The Runaway
    • The Wait
    • Them and Me
    • Push
    • Vanishing Shapes
    • The Swim
    • Sometimes...
    • Cocoon
    • The Sum of My Parts
    • Just a Simple Melody
    • Bloom
    • Ids Narda Toomur
    • Dear Maggie
    • The Passenger
    • Tips of My Toes
    • Secrets
    • The New Kid
    • Code Blue
    • Home Sweet Home
    • The Jacaranda Tree
    • Too Much to Camambert
    • Nanu Nanu
    • Unexpected Love
  • In The Spotlight

Cocoon

February 22, 2017 Emma Brooker

Today.

It feels like a spectacular floaty, peach cobbled dress, with oodles of shoulder draping; breezy wings to billow behind as I descend down a long staircase.

It feels like I can do it all with a wink and a smile.

Like that sun is hung just for me to warm the top of my head and the roses of my cheeks.

 

I have never, ever felt as good about being me as I do right this moment, and to think it is only going to get better the more baggage I hurl out of the window, smashing it onto the tar – clothes flying out everywhere in a trail behind me as I go.

It has nothing to do with any tedious daily events, or who I am in the company of; what I am supposed to have reproduced by now or where I lay my head.

It has everything to do though with waking up from a long, long slumber. Opening my eyes and seeing how strong I am and how easy I can be where I need to be. Slipping my toes from the comforting hammock that held me and my worry, my sadness, my fears down onto the cold floor.


Cocooned for so long; wrapped up in a sea-weedy, salty ocean of blankets and comfort and warmth as I thrashed around kicking and fighting it all endlessly - before finding myself giving in.

Flopping as I floated and bobbed along on top of it all, lifelessly. Curling up at the end of a hard day of dealing with what I had become. Pathetically submissive; submersive. To be suffocated by all of it for so long, years and years in fact. So completely exhausting all of my bones and my aching tired muscles. Knowing that what I was immersed in, was an overwhelming and heavy feeling of being totally out of control and totally unable to dig myself out of the giant hole I had fallen down.
I have been so miserable - deeply miserable, for so long.
And I did not even know it.
I didn’t know you could still laugh, and buy raspberry tea and pick apples and wash your hair with pretty shampoo and be so completely miserable.
I didn't know people saw me so much worse than I ever saw myself.

I didn't know you could wear a fancy dress and dance under the lights and not realise you were still invisible.

I was only miserable within myself, about myself – everything external was just dandy, delightful, dreamy. Inside though it was concrete - heavy, sad concrete that weighed me down for a long time. I had put on the brave face, the lipstick, the clothes for so long I started to believe that I was just fine. Then I rubbed my lipstick off, smudgy and thick and I instead hid myself from everyone. I tricked myself. So much so, I didn’t even know I was playing hide and seek. Saying no to anything that involved people showing up as assessors, of the damage I had done to myself.

It hurt my shoulders the most; the weight of the failure; the weight of the complex intricate things that made me; and the weight of…the weight. It was all about the way I held my weight – tied it down under a microscope and focused on it forever and a day.

It all was about the way I held my failings –  forever and a day. Holding myself down against my will. Exhausting.

For the first time ever I have reached a point where I have fought myself and won; I have put myself first and it has worked. I have been able to see my way out of an impossible situation. I have found my old self again and at the same twirly, giddy moment I have found a new me I have not met before. Whenever I said 'oh no I cannot face you with this face,' I meant I could not face me.

I always thought I was an outsider - my whole life. Never fitting in, never truly belonging, always watching from the sidelines wanting desperately to be wanted, for someone to hoist me up on a pedestal even but for a moment.

I know now how brilliant and bright and god damn good I am.

I am not a stretch and pulled cartoon. I am a Matisse, a Klimt a sparkly Van Gogh!

I have peachy, billowy chiffon all around me. Life couldn't be any better.

A B-52 Bomber, dumping the bags and crap and the weight as I fly.

I am the lightest I have ever been.

No need for a cocoon today.

Emma Kate xoxo

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