When I was a kid, I’d sing and dance into every mirror I walked passed. I was curious about the reflection staring back at me – who she was, what she could become. I’d run through our back garden pretending to be a spy talking into my sleeve and rolling around the grass, my dog by my side. My friends and I would have sleepovers together, dancing and lip syncing to songs, playing with barbies and laughing about anything and everything. We would be in a band one day – sitting outside the house with a hat and instruments we never had the patience to figure out how to play. We would become princesses another day, dressed up brightly and beautifully. Then we’d experiment as chefs throwing whatever food was in the fridge into a bowl and popping it all in a microwave to see what would happen. Life was filled with curiosity, experimentation, adventure, giddiness, creativity, energy in motion.

Whenever my brother received money, he’d invest it into his bank account. I, on the other hand, used mine to invest in a new exciting object: my digital camera was one of my favourites. I took photos of my brother and his friends during their football games – all of them posing enthusiastically as if they were local celebrities. I was excited to snap moments that felt special. Ones that I wanted to bottle up in my heart and keep forever. Then I’d print them out, creating albums to bring it all to life.

I’d get upset at people telling me to eat vegetables, at changes of plans, or when life didn’t feel fun and free. I felt a lot – sometimes the feelings would explode into a tantrum or a meltdown when I didn’t know how to contain them or what to do with them all; they’d come pouring out all at once like a waterfall I didn’t know how to stop. This is something that still happens when I try to hold it all together – a bunch of feelings build up inside then catch me by surprise and come all at once. I retreat into the darkness sheltered by my duvet, comforted by the lyrics of music.

Something happened somewhere along the way. Some emotions felt safer to show than others. Being too much put you at risk of not being worthy enough of connection. Singing became linked to being ‘good’ or ‘bad’. Photographs on social media became more about showing off what you are doing and how you look rather than capturing the beautiful moments. Colouring became about being an artist – judged for its creative potential. Dancing was limited to discos where people pointed their fingers towards the sky, scared to move too much, like a barbie stuck in a box just there for men to notice you, scared to break free even though you feel like a dove who wants to move as freely as the sea. People started asking ‘what do you do’, ‘who are you’, ‘where do you want to live’ and ‘what are your plans’. Everything became more confining. It was all about how things looked on the surface rather than the depths of emotion beneath all of it.

Life became mundane, repetitive and focused on degrees and money. The open-ended ever-changing excitement of daily life slowly started to dwindle. It’s like everyone forgot that every single day has so much possibility for what could be. People began asking ‘what’s wrong’ when tears would come. They’d stare at you for a bit longer, trapping you in a net and squishing you smaller. Don’t be too much: too much joy, anger, sadness, excitement. Bottle all of them up and play it cool. Unless you are intoxicated and then it’s safe to be a drunken fool, until the next day when everyone is talking about it, or your mind is stuck on repeat thinking about all of it.

Recently I’ve realised I don’t want to fit in. And I don’t want to save all of my feelings, energy and excitement for drunken nights of intoxication. I’m realising that little girl still lives within me. That life moves freer and easier when I let myself feel what I feel, move how I’d like to move, say what it is I want to say. If people don’t get it, then that’s fine. That’s alright. Emotion = energy in motion. Let the energy move! Give yourself a permission slip to express, to move, to feel. To say ‘yes’ and ‘no’ freely, honouring your emotions, and not feeling trapped in by other people’s judgements. Focusing on the feelings beneath the surface rather than how everything looks on the surface. When you follow what intuitively feels right for you, you give others permission to do the same too.