2009

The decade ends in less than one week.

I’m trying to wrap my head around all of the crazy, beautiful, tragic things that have happened within the past ten years.

I lost my dad to suicide. I graduated. I moved…twice. I got engaged…then I broke it off. I met some incredible, exquisite people. Life handed me so much heartbreak and I sewed it into a big, warm blanket to wrap myself in.

I remember ending 2009 in such sadness. After losing my dad earlier in the year, I couldn’t fathom how life could get any brighter. I remember the years that followed his passing were some of the darkest I think I’ll ever have. The thought of making it another ten years wasn’t plausible. Laughable, actually.

I turned twenty-three yesterday.

I’m pleasantly surprised.

When you think there’s nothing left to give, you muster up the last minuscule amount of energy and make it happen because that’s what you’re supposed to do. You manage because your potential outweighs the demons that hinder your ability to fight.

Maybe I didn’t accomplish as much as some, but I lived.

I think that counts for something.

i am a lot of things…

I am not a failure.

Of course not. I’m just a college drop out, a procrastinator, and a crier.

Each day I beg the universe for a change and that’s my most toxic trait– expecting the life I want to be handed to me as if I’m owed anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love my life. I have a great support system, a roof over my head, a job that treats me well. I have food in my belly and a shower to use and a crazy cat that cuddles with me. I wake up each day in certainty that I am taken care of. That’s more than what some people could ever imagine having.

And with all of that knowledge and all of those gifts from this universe, I’m still ungrateful. I can say I’m grateful all I want, and it’s half true– I do appreciate what I have. But there is still so much I have taken for granted and continue to take for granted regardless of recognizing my own issues. The majority of “problems” in my life stem from my decisions and the mistakes I continually make. I bitch and moan about being overweight, but I don’t go to the gym. I get upset about my career when I don’t make an effort to explore my passions. I stress about money when I could be working more overtime or cutting out unnecessary expenses. I run out of excuses faster than I run out of underwear; which for the record, is alarming fast.

Each Sunday my phone tells me how much I’ve used social media. It’s both impressive and revolting. I complain that there’s not enough time in the day, but I sure as fuck make time to see drama unfold on Facebook and look to see if Sally is having a boy or a girl even though we haven’t seen each other since senior year of high school.

I am my own worst enemy; because as much as I know I need to improve, I lack the capabilities of giving credit where credit is due.

I’m a college drop out, a procrastinator, and a crier.

I am also a lover, an empath, and a fighter.

I like to make people smile. I appreciate a good compliment. Last Thursday I told the cashier at Marshall’s she was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. It was genuine though– I don’t do inauthenticity.

I am bad at a whole lot, but at least I’m good at it.

Moral of the story?

I am a lot of things. I am human, I am unbalanced, I am who I am.

I am not a failure.

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