I suppose I could write...well, nicely.  In neat rows.  Tucked in, no frayed ends.  Write in rhyming prose.  Correct spelling and grammar.  Dotting all i's and crossing all t's.  Making sure my sharing doesn't reveal...too much.  Hide the stains.  Cover the scars.  "Don't tell your business!" is what I hear as I type.  But, I'm gonna.

I have to.  I want to free the experiences.  My very human ones.  You know, similar to what all humans experience.  Some don't share much, some do share and I am always reminded by the ones that share, how the Universe spins around each of us and how our stories and sharings can be the medicine for the person that just listened to you pour your heart out.

This brought on just a second ago.  A little disagreement with my love.  A little bit of some worked up energy between us was let loose.  It sucks, yes, but it is nothing in comparison to what I've experienced in the past.  It still does suck.  And I cried.  I carried a glass of red wine (which I don't drink much of) wiping tears under my glasses and sniffling downstairs to my garage studio.  I sit staring at my computer, feeling a familiar feeling.  Slightly depressing but willing to smash it all into some writing.  Some deep words, some laying out naked kind of stuff.  That kind of stuff that you don't mind stirring in because you know it will unearth some things.  Some things that need a quick back door get-a-way.  This feeling, I can now turn into medicine, an elixir for the soul, some soothing remedy for the wounded, dizzy, lost and disconnected moments.  The kind that made artists sort of crazy.

But, I am in a different place now.  I understand and have befriended the "Emotional-Guides".  Allies and challengers doing their thing.  Having me choose.  Offering opportunities.  Places to swim, grab a floaty but this time, I don't have to drown.  This is different.  *sips wine*

I will begin by shedding some skins. 

I feel like an imprisoned creative, but yet I am free.  I struggle with the physical part of my creative ideas and projects.
I dislike being such a freaky sensitive person.
I dislike that I am constantly adjusting the energy around me to help others, even complete strangers.  It is noticeable.  It makes me seem really awkward and weird.
I am the eccentric one in my entire family, both sides...really.
My sensitivities sometimes keep me in the house too long.
I often have difficulty changing environments.  From leaving my nest- to car- to picking up kids and back home is exhausting.
I dislike that I notice way too much.  Empaths are like highly trained detectives that never have a break and work for free.

All this negative release is sort of crappy too, but there is some gold in here.  Yes, the alchemical process of pure release.  Transmuting that energy into flakes of gold and bits of crystal.  So, you see...sometimes you feel like the only person in the world having an experience, but there might be someone in front of you, in line at the grocery store or coffee shop that has or is having a similar or even more intense experience.  If the two of you sat down and released by story sharing, it would probably be very healing. 

Are you the one that can relate to this?  Did this remind you that we are all human having humanly experiences at different times, in different places, from the vantage point of different bodies?  Here, here is some soothing salve for you to put on that wound.  Then when it's healed up, we can compare our scars and tell their stories.  Offering soul medicine for the taking.

Expressing happens because of this brilliant and sacred connection.  And, before I begin the creative process, I open up; become as a clear a vessel I can be.