Every single week I want to meet you with an impeccable, thought-out, and inspiring newsletter. Something that will light a fire under you. Make you feel like you’re in a thousand-strong army of women. Something that wraps an arm around you and says, it’s okay to cry. In short, I have high expectations of myself and I want the best for you. I hope some weeks, at least, I manage to bring you that.
This week, however, I am in no position to do so. As I sit here writing to you my head is thumping a steady beat, my body is trying to curl in on itself and my heart is jumping around my chest, its pieces thrown up into the air, still looking for a soft landing.