Friday, May 15, 2015

after all

People said really, really nice and encouraging things to me on Facebook about a week ago and it took me until this morning to actually read them. Why? Did I not think I deserved those nice words? Did I feel like a fraud? Was I embarrassed for being so open and vulnerable? Yes to all of the above. I am such a crumb bucket to myself. What a shame, too. I have said this before, but if I wasn't myself I would totally love myself. I would be, like, "Who is that rad chick? Man oh man! I want to be her BFF! Or, hell, even date her! Will you marry me, Meg? Please love me!" And I would probably love the other me and we'd run away to a New Mexican ranch and paint, raise horses, photograph found objects against harsh backgrounds, get super into soap making, catch fireflies (are there fireflies in New Mexico?), read forgotten poetry on some kind of a porch, and drink in the stars nightly. If only I wasn't myself.

So what else is new in my very small world? I'll tell you what's old -- I am starting to get the itch to move to the Oregon Coast. Like I said, this is old news. Not new news. I have wanted to reside in the Beaver State since before I was born. Yes, I was up there in Fraggle Rock (because that's the spirit world) planning my Oregon Coast existence. Okay, it could be Portland first and then the Coast. Is "Coast" capitalized? It is, right? Fugg it! Who cares! This is not an English class! This is a poorly constructed blog! Anyway, Portland first so I can meet my soul mate and have a bit of a social life and get all of that hipsterness out of my system before I retire to the coast/Coast. Unless I somehow make a "shit ton" of money then SEE YA I'm moving to Paris. But before all of these things can come together, I must come back to a better spot within and with myself. Basically, I gotta stop being an asswipe to myself and start liking myself a lot. Like, LIKE LIKE. Not just "Meh, I'm okay."

I'm better than okay, okay? I am grand. And I know it seems like I am going through a depressive phase -- maybe I am -- but I do feel hopeful. And I wasn't hopeful at all about two months ago. Hope is a big improvement. Plus, I am eating well! My fingers don't cause me grief! I am reaching out and asking for help, even though it's really difficult most of the time! Quick, give me a beret so I can throw it up in the air like Ms. Mary Tyler Moore and exclaim, "I'm gonna make it after all!" Because I am.

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