Monday, March 28, 2016


Did you survive yesterday? I'm sure multitudes of people thrived yesterday, especially Jesus. I, however, simply survived. And that was enough.

Holidays are hard. They have been hard ever since I became an adult. Is it only due to the fact that I want to remain a child? No. No because I am not even sure I want to remain a child. In fact, I want to fast forward to my retirement years where I sip spiked Ovaltine on a Miami beach with my 20-year-old Cuban boyfriend. I suppose I need to have a career first in order to retire.

Last night I had a dream that I was moving out of my childhood home again. I was crying because I didn't want to get rid of my stuffed animals. At the same time, I became fascinated with my grandparents' old timey clothes I found in a closet and started formulating a plan where I could become my grandparents.

And now for the interpretation. I think it is pretty obvious. I find myself clinging to childhood (the past) while simultaneously striving for my twilight years (the future). Innocence versus wisdom perhaps? What's missing is the meat in between. I am ignoring the present and avoiding the essential steps I am supposed to take and the experiences I am supposed to have in order to advance in life. In other words, I am missing out.

I don't want to miss out. Of course I don't want to miss out. It's just that I haven't realized until recently that I have been missing out. It took my subconscious mind to point this out to me. It took quieting down for a minute and tapping into my intuitive nature. It took some damn hard honest self-reflection. It has been exhausting, but I refuse to fall back asleep.

Where to start? This is where I fall short. I think too much, second guess everything, and then talk myself out of whatever needs to be done. Beginnings should be more spontaneous, more impulsive -- and then I can straighten things out along the way.

I start by putting myself out there more. A little bit at a time. I get coffee with someone. I go on a walk with someone. I join some kind of club/organization/cult. Okay, not a cult. But let me at least interact with other like-minded humans in real life. Let me have discussions and disagreements and discoveries -- outside of the comfort of my home/the screen.

In order to be more social, I have to be less rigid with my self-imposed schedule/habits/rituals. I have to loosen up and be more like water, less like stone.

I am tempted to say, "But I just wish I had more reliable friends!" or "It would be so much easier to be social if I lived in Salt Lake again!" And while those may be true statements, they are also excuses. Not every interaction I have has to be the best or in the most ideal location. Just the fact that I will be trying something new and trying to improve my well-being is good enough for me. Again, one step at a time.

No more denying myself. No more hiding from the opportunities the universe keeps throwing my way. No more trying to pad my world so I never, ever fall. Fall, Meghan. Fall because the rising up will be spacious, the scrapes on your knees will heal, and the stories you will have to tell will be richer, fuller, and entirely your own.

And now for some unrelated pictures.

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