identify

Discovering what I want for the first time in years and years and years (perhaps 30 years?) is an arduous process.

I grew up not giving myself the voice I so desperately needed. I remained quiet while others decided for me. I thought it was better to remain hidden than to show up and be seen. I left my desires on the back burner while attending to tasks I never found inspiring. And the worst part of all of this is that I never thought anything was wrong with keeping myself silent. In fact, I thought I was being good, I thought I was being almost holy. I thought I had it all under control.

But inside I was withering. I was losing what was unique to me simply because I never noticed it. Buried deep down I must have instinctively felt that I had lost something vital. A spark won't start a fire if it has been covered with sand.

I do know this ocean I've neglected. I do know it and I am ready to return. Oddly enough, the ocean will never put out the spark. The opposing forces may seem to destroy each other -- whether it is through extinguishing or boiling -- but I see it as an act of balance. A way to attend to one another directly without layers of lies and foreign stories. There is a deeper respect found when everything is stripped bare.

I will discover. I am determined to uncover. I can't breathe underwater or in the smoke without this oxygen.

(un)calculate

My thoughts are muuuuch slower tonight. Probably because I need to eat. Probably because I am tired. Probably because it's natural to have the brain unwind at nighttime. I forget to trust my body and the rhythms and the cycles. Or maybe I don't forget, I just fear letting go of control. But I am ready to let go of control and start being about 187% more spontaneous and impulsive, as long as that impulsivity does not involve my hair. No, Meggie, no more dying or cutting or banging. I mean, no more cutting bangs. Banging in the wink wink nudge nudge way might just be what the doctor ordered. Oh, so you are a doctor? Well, I am a nurse. Let me just slip into something more nurse-like and super revealing and trashy...

Oh dear. My parents read this blog. Let me very quickly change the subject. Texas. My newest life plan for about 4 hours was to move to Austin. No, not because of anything related to SXSW or sleeve tattoos or fried okra (although the fried okra alone would be reason enough to pack my bags). No, just because. Just because I am too comfortable. Just because I am beginning to feel as though I have given up or at least retired at the age of 30. Just because I am fascinated thinking about the folks out there that could enter my life. That really hidden rebellious side of me craves taking those chances and creating my own destiny. I seem to just passively sit on the sidelines and let life slip by. Yikes. That strikes fear in my heart.

THEN AGAIN... I need stability and predictability right now. Or do I? No, seriously -- do I? Or is calculated stupidity what would serve me the best right now? I've played it safe my entire life (aside from brief periods in my now-infamous 20s) and, well, yawn.

Will you backpack with me through Europe? Want to start a commune? Can we be roomies in a brand new city? Give me the thumbs up and I'll be out the door. Let's go.

tour

Alright alright alright (said in Matthew McConaughey's voice) (that joke isn't relevant or funny) (but not all jokes have to be winners) (sometimes life is a joke) (and in life there are winners and losers) (and then there are those who aren't winners and aren't losers, they are somewhere comfortably in the middle) (which is where I'd like to be) (eventually).

Where was I? Oh right. Alright alright alright. My last post was a bit of a downer. A bit! Just a smidgen. A pinch of this and a dash of that and voila! You've got yourself a light and fluffy downer first thing in the morning! Well, no. I don't want to be that today. I don't want to be that Deborah Downer. If I fixate on how I feel "weird," that's all I will feel today. And there are so many other feelings to feel! Joy! Elation! Desire! Lust! Jolly! Jittery! Hostile! There are a few of those I just mentioned that I won't actively seek out, but if they happen to happen to me, I will allow it. I guess that means I will allow myself to feel weird as well. Hmmm. This isn't really a contradiction; I just won't fixate on feeling weird. I'll just feel all of the feelings that come my way, man. Ride those waves.

Waves. I need to visit the ocean. Soon. I was there, I suppose, a few months ago when I went to San Francisco. But not really. Because was I ever really in San Francisco? It still feels, and probably always will feel, like a dream. (Feels! I litter my posts with feels.) Plus, the only time I saw the ocean was from a wharf populated by tourists. I was one of those tourists, wasn't I? But I was alone. I am not a tourist when I am alone. I am whatever I want to be.

I am off to go get some coffee (or herbal tea! please, meg! for the sake of your soul and your nerves and your FEELS, get the herbal tea!) now with a great gal and pal. Gal pal. Gal pals are the best kind of pals. I want more of you gal pals in my life, please. Please oh please! And please, stick with me. I know my thoughts are all over the place these days/all of the time. And they probably always will be all over the place. But I swear there's buried treasure in here somewhere! Is that my ego speaking? Or is that the truth?

Alright alright alright. Have a Saturday full of feels. xoxoxoxo

dizzy

I woke up dizzy this morning. And that concerns me. I have to drive down to Provo this morning. And that concerns me because I am dizzy and also because Saturday on State Street is basically Meghan's Panic Attack Waiting to Happen. It's not that bad, I guess. It's better than the freeway. Plus, it's pretty outside. Plus, I have good music and windows that roll down and thoughts that pop up only when I'm cruisin'. That's right! Cruisin'! I don't know exactly what "cruisin'" entails. I don't know if I have actually ever cruised in my life. I use too many adverbs.

Yesterday I slipped. Not physically, that I can remember, but with Ed. He's a slippery fool who often brings me with him down his slide. At the bottom of the slide are sharks and needles and super glue. And probably lava as well. Anyway, I suppose I shall not go into the specifics of the slippage, but let us (me) just say that I am discouraged. I lack the motivation I have had these past few weeks. It hasn't completely disappeared and I still have a little bit of hope that it will return, but... But I'm just tired.

I don't know. I'll get back to you.

merge

Hey! Hello! I am abandoning the post I started writing ten minutes ago for this weird monkey mind one because I need to lighten up a bit. The abandoned post, which I may return to later, was all about muscular atrophy, specifically one of my muscles, specifically my assertive muscle, specifically specifically specifically. The word "specifically," if you squint really hard to the point where your eyes are completely closed and you use your wild imagination, looks like an alien. Everything looks like an alien! Or rather, anything can look like an alien if you want it to. Everything can also look like a cloud, a bird, a tire swing, a movie ticket stub, a piece of copper wire, a river, a stream, the bottom of the ocean, a cup of coffee, a lost doll from your childhood, your grandmother. What do you see? Do you trust your eyes?

Moving on.

When I was in my now-infamous-in-my-mind 20s, I had my head way way way way way way up there in the clouds. I believed it was all possible! I didn't even question how realistic anything was! I was too busy questioning reality, maaan. (Guess I still kind of am?) I believed I could easily learn French, get an art history degree, become a world-renowned art curator, and live a glamorously surreal existence in Paris. None of it seemed fantastical at all. The following week I had an even more elaborate and costly life plan. The money thing didn't concern me because I figured everything would just naturally fall into place. But of course!

Now that I am in my sexy (*has yet to prove to be sexy AHEM) 30s, life has suddenly decided to laugh at my grandiose dreams and pull my head from out of the clouds and stick it in the sand. Okay, it's not in the sand. I just like the way that sounded. My head is merely sitting on my shoulders, as it should be, sometimes looking down, but not in prayer. I watch for the cracks on the sidewalk and worry about broken backs. I also worry about actual muscular atrophy and diabetes and all of the cancers and bills and finding ways to pay for desperately needed therapists. I worry about eating a bowl of Grape-Nuts with unsweetened almond milk. I worry about my teeth. And why does my nose keep bleeding? I should get my oil changed and learn how to bake chicken. I don't even know how to order pizza.

Paris. Ha. Art curator. Double ha. Oh, those were the glory days. Dreamy.

I know I still have it in me to be this euphoric, ever-so-slightly delusional gal. And obviously I also have it in me to be an almost too realistic and unidealistic chick. What if I somehow merge the two? What if I keep my head on my shoulders while occasionally letting it float off and into the clouds? Leave the window open for a little wonder to enter. Where will that lead me? Let me find out.

mud

Society, man! It's totally a drag! Totally bringin' me down! No, but really. I don't like that I am worried about money and that I desire more money because I very much desire to rid myself of worries. And I don't like that I feel compelled (although not as much as I did in the past) to play games with other people. Coworkers, family members, friends, potential loves, acquaintances, cashiers, children, pastors and priests -- everyone. We feel like we can't say what we actually want to say, that if we do express our desires and our emotions we will either be ridiculed, pushed away, ignored, or the ever-wonderful all of the above.

Well, I am tired of going against my "inner self." Of course I'm tired of it. It doesn't make sense. I keep trying to make the senseless make sense and it is depleting me rapidly. All of that energy and passion could (and should) be used for what gives me life and what allows me to give life to others. That sounds a little ego-heavy, but I'm too exhausted to figure out a better way to phrase it. Basically, I want to concern myself less with material possessions and people pleasing and just BARE IT ALL! Baring it all by tellin' whomever whatever whenever and having confidence in the truth -- my truth -- and not worrying if others reject me. Baring it all by rollin' around naked wherever whenever with whomever in the mud under the sun during a psychedelic music festival. Kidding, but tooooootally serious. I miss you, Hippie Meg. You are sure buried deep inside. Come out come out and let it all hang out! Please?

So maybe I need to still concern myself a little with money. You know, just so I can get by and help myself heal and help others as well. And maybe I need to be slightly more selective with whom I share my innermost thoughts and secrets. But I am going to also step away from worrying about the cash and the games and use my time to find the carefree soul I know is still inside of me. I will lure her out with sunsets and sunrises and good food and bird watching. I will tempt her with trips up the canyon to lie on some rocks and stare at the sky. And a mud pit! She is definitely a sucker for getting dirty.

Turn on! Tune in! Drop out! But still remember to pay your medical bills! Mwah mwah!

craft

Recovery is not an open meadow full of wildflowers and docile puppies. Recovery isn't a sky so wide and bright that you almost want to go inside because my! How difficult it is to take in all this wonderful sunshine! Nope. Recovery is a struggle every single minute of the day.

Or at least three times a day. Recovery is about waking up feeling unsure about whether these breakfasts you keep eating are really necessary. Yes, you feel more clearheaded after a meal, but that also means you have awakened emotions you were starving for oh-so-long.

It worked, too. The emotions disappeared as quickly as your physical body. The less food on your plate, the less the frustrations in your brain. But you also had less joy. Oh sure, you had the euphoric highs at times which were most likely caused by chemicals in your brain from fasting for so long. Those highs are devious, however, and they are always followed by the other extreme -- crippling lows.

Everything is off-balance and you feel like an alien. It freaks you out at first and you don't feel like yourself. But then again, how do you even define yourself? Have you quieted your mind enough to uncover and discover this elusive self? Or are you allowing yourself to be defined by others? Hey, you think, if others define me then I am off the hook. I don't need to make decisions or own any actions. I can be a vessel. I will sail around without a compass and hide below deck whenever storms approach and the waters become choppy. I will let someone else take care of steering the ship to safety.

And then one day you suddenly sink. Of course, it didn't happen "suddenly." There was a leak for a long time, you just became very good at ignoring it. But there comes a point when you can't ignore the water around your ankles and you definitely can't ignore it when you are in neck-deep. Especially since you can't swim. You never learned. Hiding below deck doesn't work anymore. Hiding above deck won't cut it, either.

The only thing left to do is survive. How do you do it? If you can remember one thing in this situation, it is to not panic. Panic is cement. Panic will drown you. So act. Look for a life vest. You never noticed all of the life vests on this ship before. In fact, they are everywhere. You are practically tripping over life vests. Grab as many vests as you can. You aren't being greedy, I promise. Now start treading water if possible. (Hint: You won't know if it's possible until you try.)

Launch distress flares. Make yourself known. And for heaven's sake, don't be ashamed or embarrassed of drawing attention to yourself. You are sinking, remember? No more hiding. No more hiding. Allow help to reach you. I'm proud of you for making these efforts. I'm proud of you for struggling to survive. I'm proud of you for showing up.

And help will show up. Help is eager to take over during this highly vulnerable time. It is prepared. You will be rescued. Please trust me; more importantly, trust yourself.

Your old, unreliable, foreign vessel will sink. It will lie rusted at the bottom of the sea. You will miss the dark corners where you used to hide at times, but those longings pass the longer you stay afloat. There will always be treasure down there in the wreckage. When you are ready you may even consider diving down and exploring the gold which lies beneath. You will have your wet suit and flippers and oxygen tank. You will be prepared and you will gather riches. Until then, let yourself be warmed on deck with nothing but the open sky above.

You are here. You survived. You are loved.