Mental Questions.

People.

We are mental.

And I don't care if I offend you. I'm sorry, really.*
But I can't lie. I don't care. It's quarter to 2 in the morning and I'm inexplicably writing instead of getting the four and a half hours left of sleep that I desperately need before filming tomorrow. (Case in point, by the way - mental)

So...  if this isn't a safe blog because of individual experiences of the word used in a pejorative sense, well... buckle up. 

Bitch is reclaiming.

We are MENTAL.

I MEAN COME ON, LOOK AT THE WORLD RIGHT NOW. WE ARE ALL FUCKING MAD.

In many ways, I love it.
In many... I don't. But those are thoughts for another day.

I know a wise woman who actively prefers peeing in nature/outside, at any opportunity, rather than in a bathroom facility. I mean. Brilliant.

We're conditioned to believe that all that makes us different, makes us wrong.

The way I see it today* is that it's from learning to nurture and love our questions. The bits of us that we don't understand. That feel messy. Sticking out with prickly cacti edges and claws. Out of place. That we don't have answers to. 
Maybe, even, the bits that hurt.
That's how we find our power.

I just, I feel like it's that time of year where everyone's a bit lost and covered in tinsel. 2016 is almost done and I'm poor, haven't published three poetry books, a spoken word album, been in a feature film, toured internationally, got a boyfriend, a girlfriend, a dog, a social life or learnt to juggle
( I really want to learn to juggle). 

So, maybe this year could not count? And I can open next year like a present, finding inside a perfect, brand-new-in-the-box, sparkly Rachel ready to meet, nay, EXCEED all my wildest expectations. Yeah?

No. I'm sick of it. Really... that idea. Ideal. Can fuck off.

Christmas will come and go; I'll throw the wrapping paper in the bin and lie in my pyjamas a lot. Then, 2017 will dawn and, right now, my hope is this.

That I make it to it.
Simply. Quietly. Peacefully.

I'd like to see 2017 in, maybe somewhere up high, looking down at lots of lights - imagining people popping champagne bottles and feeling joy, together.
Breathing and existing and ready to do another day. 

I'd like to be up there on the high place.
Ready too.
With maybe one or two people that I love. 
And I'd like one of them,
to be me.

If I can have that, then yeah.

I'll manage mental for now.
 


* Disclaimer, I'm a mental health advocate. Not a prick. Not. A. Prick.
* I am at liberty to humbly change my viewpoint at my leisure. Because.
HOW ELSE AM I GOING TO LEARN?!