I wrote some shit. It was pretty deep. This isn’t it,
obviously. There are things I would, in part, love to share. But I can’t. It’s
really too much. I would love to completely open up and lay it all out like
“BLAM. Deal with that shit, kids.” But I’m not wired to throw every detail of
my personal musings out to the Universe. I’ve read back through some of this
writing, and I’ve shared quite a lot. Anyone who has followed it knows a bit
about my confidence, my fear, my weird. But, some things are better left to rattle
around inside my own head, or belong to those who love me unconditionally. So
I’ve decided that’s what I’ll actually write about. Self awareness. And knowing
who you are. And knowing what’s wrong with you. And the magical few who don’t
care how broken and fucked up you are because they're...well, magical. Or they knew you before anything got
twisted. Or the world threw you into each other’s lives because you knew you
would understand everything just as it should be.
What I’m saying is that, over the past several years I’ve
done a lot of judging. I mean, a lot. Mostly of other people (because, damn
guys, get your shit together, really), but a lot of myself as well. And I think
I’ve finally come to a place of…I guess, resigned comfort. I understand myself
and what I do and the choices I make far better than I did even five years ago.
If one were to ask my mother (please don’t) she would say that I’ve always
known exactly who I am. Maybe that’s partially true. I understood that my
choices and actions and words were mine. And that they, in total, defined a big
part of me. But I always struggled against them. I chose to act and speak in a
way that fit into what I thought I wanted.
This isn’t earth-shattering.
Everyone does it. It’s part of growing up and discovering who you are. It’s where
clichés come from as well. “I wouldn’t change anything because it’s all made me
who I am! Butterflies! Girlpower! Inspirational quote here!” Bull.Shit. There
are tons of things I would change. There’s a massive list of shit I would never
have done or said, had I only known how it would impact my life. What I guess has changed is that I’ve learned
to deal with it. I come from a far less apologetic place these days. I
understand what’s great about me. I also understand what is really and truly
fucked the shit up. And I guess that’s the difference. Understanding, rather
than just knowing.
Which brings me to my deep, amazing love for the people around me. The ones who understood me long before I did. My confidants. My partners in crime. My drinking buddies. My hangover cohorts. My voices of reason. My sounding boards. My brothers and sisters. You guys are my center, my sanity, my family.
