consistency

motherhood through thick and thin

Maybe if I was more consistent I’d be further along.

Maybe I’d be in that home I’ve been dreaming of with that peace I can clearly feel.

“They” (the patriarchy? The systems that be?) say that consistency is the key to success.

I used to think this meant showing up every day the same way. Like rote memorization. Just fuckin’ raw-dogging that shit and doing it. Like ignoring what your body is telling you and just doing it anyway.

I assume that’s how most people interpret being “consistent”

But again, that’s some male-centered patriarchal bs.

Women, we follow the moon.

Women, we flow. Literal blood flowing from the portal that is our vagina.

Maybe consistency looks like… trying.

Maybe consistency isn’t based on days, but months, seasons, years.

The only thing I’m able to be truly consistent in the “daily-application” sort of way is MOTHERhood. Whether I feel like it or not. Whether I feel like shit or not. It’s me. It’s me. It’s me.

Everything else? Second priority.

I follow the moon.

My life revolves around my son.