I know I post on here every 5 months or something and im not actually sure anyone reads it except about five people. I am so happy about those 5 people though. They make me feel so special and loved and cared for. Even if they accidentally clicked the link and exited it quickly because they didn’t mean too. I love them anyway. I started this blog so that I might get in the habit and discipline of writing and posting because id say one of my greatest burdens, biggest fears, and most magical dreams is to write for the rest of my life. Anything and everything. Poems, short stories, novels, articles, memoirs, ramblings. I just can only think of this one thing and being indebted to it. I don’t really care about getting famous or published honestly. I just want to do it because I love it and it frees me in a radical way and helps me understand life and get back on the horse when i’ve fallen or fall off the horse if I need a little shaking. But it’s kind of a vulnerable thing to do. Writing this candidly on a public blog where who knows who reads it or could or really who is judging me. And I guess I just feel like I need a disclaimer for this phase of my life. This is all real and honest and I make no apologies if it offends you or worries the hell out of you or annoys you or makes you want to squeeze my neck and go dance the night away with me. I also love living this part of my life. Sometimes I hate it and want to stab myself in the eyes, but im grateful. I’ve made my own choices every step of the way and I think everything will be ok. I mean I don’t actually know if it will, but if it isn’t who cares? I can’t control most things, especially the 65 ½ different things I feel and think throughout the day so I say just make the best of it all. Live and let live. And laugh and cry and dance and drink too much, and don’t drink it all and dance until you have blisters and sing and cry some more and just be alive. Gosh sometimes I am so damn sappy and sentimental and entirely girly. Once again, no apologies. Also if you haven’t noticed, im absolutely too defensive about everything ever. Whether you even know that your thinking sometimes negative or what ever. I’ve already disclaimed it and told you I don’t care. I think it’s because im the middle child and have spent my life defending myself against all the older younger, anyone who attacked me ever. Wow. Ok well, theres that. And here are some thoughts I had today about ending my 22nd year of life.
I keep telling myself to breathe. Just deeply accept all that life is. I am 22 for one more month. That’s all I’ve got left of frivolous 22. That’s all I have left of this gloriously insane year of trying to claim back my youth. Because that’s what it has been. A desperate avenue of trying to figure out what being young and dumb is all about. And it has been so unexpectedly fun. I never knew how much I would love dancing and parties and drinking too much. It has been so incredibly fun. It has also been a little tragic and humiliating, but wonderfully so in so many ways. I’m proud of myself. I’m so glad I have made new friends and forced myself to go on dates with sometimes sweet sometimes shitty guys and still managed miraculously to hold onto my values and morals. Some might say it’s a miracle. I am not sure who watches the story of my life play out…I know it worries some people. I wonder if i’ve worried a lot of people. But part of this last year for me was breaking away and separating myself from others needs and plans and hope for my life. And I guess some of my own awful plans I had made for myself. Because I deeply love people. I deeply want to please the ones I love. But I just woke up one day, and realized I was 22 and I had adapted life to living as though I was married, in my thirties with three kids. (No offense to anyone who is married, in their thirties with 3 kids. But I’m not) and it was largely to do with the fact that most of my friends I spent all my time with were in this phase of life. I had spent the last three years living life as though I was too. But then I realized all these people were 22 once. And they got to be 22 and then I started feeling like I got ripped off in some way. Like I was missing out on being young and free. And then I realized it’s my life, I get to change things if I want to. And while I’m sure in most eyes my choices haven’t been the most wise, it has felt so entirely freeing to not have to be perfect. Oh my gosh. Not that I ever have been, but my goal has always been to appear put together and perfect and in need of nothing. Which who knows if it ever worked, but I sure as hell tried and suffocated my soul in the process. Anyways that’s besides the point or something. Although I have no idea what my point is. Except that we all have this one crazy incredible unpredictable sometime miserable but mostly magical life to live. It’s all our own. We come into this world with some predispositions we can’t change. But we also come into it with a lot if choices we get to make. And we, well I, mainly just need people to trust that I’m going to be ok. I trust that I’m going to be ok. I trust that through the mistakes and the triumphs all is well and will be if we wish it to be. I hated that last sentence after I wrote it btw. Because sometimes life sucks and the mistakes are awful and make you sick to your stomach and the triumphs never seem to make you as happy as you thought they would. But I still think it’s all going to be ok. I love that big, giant, unfathomable force that I just usually call God without all those damn adjectives. But I love him or her. What ever. I think I am capable of love because he is love and he dwells in my heart. Even when I try to kick him out because I don’t wana have anymore of that love crap. Makes me feel too much and cry when I don’t want to. But I feel him, everyday, rooting for me. Cheering me on, picking me up, dusting me off and whispering in my ear to try again and keep going and that he loves me and is so proud of the woman I am. Not the woman he thinks I should be, but this woman right here.
Im so happy if you read all of this. Bless you because I know my grammar is pretty awful. But it’s ok. Jesus loves me.
Highlight I learned at 22
I cannot cry when I want, only when there are standing ovations, any kind of sports video where they put pictures and motivation words and music that are meant to get you so excited (I just bawl like a baby), when I listen to live music (in other words at concerts with crowds of people where I am horrified to cry yet I bawl and run to bathroom where I continue to bawl) and if I am really really really angry. Or really really really drunk. And it’s after 4am. Sister can’t hang sometimes.
There you have it people. Im ready for 23. It should be so fun, right?