Red Wine Stain On A White Dress In Human Form

About a week ago, for the first time, I painted my nails hot pink. And understandably, that means nothing to you. But to me it meant a lot, because it was something different. Something out of character for me, and a small little step beyond my comfort zone. That's something I'm really working hard on right now - going beyond the limits of what's familiar to me and really allowing myself to grow through the discomfort that comes along with it. I've spent long enough fearing change and not being confident enough in myself to embrace all of my own chaos - I'm over all of that now. I'm ready to feel better and be better. 

Very recently I got out of a relationship I had been in for far too long. I needed to leave, in the interest of protecting my mental health... but that didn't make it any less hard. Yes, it was my own idea to get out, and yes, I cried over it more than I care to admit. There was a lot that went into my making that decision, and a lot of emotional distress followed. I hope you never have to know what that feels like, but I'm aware of the unfortunate likelihood that you already do. So I'm sorry. It's rough. It's really hard, and it sucks, and it makes very little sense. You would think that respecting yourself the way you ought to would be easy, but in my experience it's one of the hardest things to do. If you've ever been where I am now, or if you're here with me at the moment... all my love. You're doing or have done something that takes more strength than I could ever possibly explain with words - and you deserve the world for that. 

I saw this rose growing on its own just a few days after everything had happened and I couldn't help but think, "This is the world showing you that you can be these things on your own. Strong. Beautiful. Don't forget it."

I haven't yet, and don't intend to. I got a rose inked into my skin permanently for the same reason.

Most of my own healing has happened in the midst of my absolute weakest moments and I am grateful for that. One of the best lessons I've learned in the last year or so of my life is to really allow myself to experience pain. I welcome hurt now rather than hiding from it, and I allow myself to let it stay. I'm very lucky, too, because I have a lot of friends who are incredibly supportive and understanding of that. These people are the ones I come to with the darkest parts of me, and they'll pick up their phones at 2 a.m. for me. They'll say, "Just start typing" if I tell them I need to vent but don't know how yet. They'll say, "Come over and let's go for a drive," when it's clear that I need a distraction. 

I used to brush off my own feelings a lot of the time, and I did damage to myself in doing that. I used to get hurt and tell myself things like, "It'll be fine, it'll get better, it could be worse," and those things are all still true... but the difference now is that first and foremost, I allow myself to recognize that in these moments, it's perfectly okay to just let things suck. To let certain experiences be ugly and awful and painful. I'm so much more emotionally aware now, and in touch with my own heart. That is the single greatest power I've discovered within myself - my ability to feel, and to do it authentically.

My worth? It's there. Undoubtedly. I see it. Those close to me see it. I feel it in my bones, and that's what I hold onto when everything seems to be crashing and burning around me. I'm not the same woman I was a year ago or even two months ago, and I'm loving that. I'm loving that because things have been really, REALLY hard lately and I haven't let any of it stand between me and my humanity. 

Below are snapshots of some of the tiniest, simplest, most innocent fractions of my recent weeks. Some of the moments that have saved me, featuring some of the people I couldn't and wouldn't dare do this life without.

"I love my job, I love my job, I love my job," I whispered to myself after I snapped this - and it's true. I work several different jobs. I work a lot of 15 hour days in order to pay rent and cover all of my expenses. It isn't unusual for me to work 2 or 3 different jobs in a day, as was the case on this night. I was SO tired, and my heart was hurting, but these two had enough energy for all three of us several times over. We spent the few hours we had together laughing, playing tag in the backyard, sharing a mac and cheese pizza, dancing in the family room and enjoying the togetherness post-quarantine. 

Coffee dates with my mama have become a more regular thing as I've grown up and gained an appreciation for espresso and quiet afternoons. So when we heard about a place that could put our faces on lattes, you know we had to be there. Again, one of my first outings post-quarantine. Thank you to the sweet barista who remade mine 4 times until it came out right, and laughed with me when the first two were awful to which I responded, "this seems to be about how my life is going." I may not have had a commencement after earning my degree, but I loved getting to sip on this sweet little unique celebratory drink. 

Also, walks in the park are severely undervalued. I love walking with people who are patient enough to let me stop several dozen times along the way to capture photos of the ordinary like I did with this dandelion, only to realize later that I also captured our shadows. I loved something about the gentleness of the light in this particular moment, and I love it just as much looking back. 

This day... this whole graduation-in-isolation thing... no words. 

But they're really gonna let me out into the world now, to study the criminal mind and help make a difference. I've never been so ready for anything.

Finally getting to go back to the office after two MONTHS of working from the corner of my bedroom felt like coming home in the best way. "Normal" isn't the right word. I'm pretty confident that my idea of "normal" is long gone by now. But that's okay. I have to wear a mask now and stay six feet away from everyone, but I still get to say "good morning" to my people. I still get to step into courtrooms. I still get to do work that hits home for me. I still get to help make this world better. I still get to smile at strangers even when they can't see it. I still get to say, to my six-year-old self, "Stick with this. You're getting to live your dream." 

In the words of the iconic Stanley Hudson, "I like Pretzel Day." Because sometimes, you just need an afternoon of baking pretzels from scratch and spilling flour all over the floor. We baked all afternoon on a Monday, walked the route to my new apartment to get some fresh air, shared stories, and planned our next Pinterest baking experiment. In case you wondered, our next attempt will be cinnamon and sugar pretzels with icing as a dip instead of queso. 

These are notes I've written to myself as reminders, and stuck them in the front of my planner so I have no choice but to see them multiple times a day every day. Reminders to do what my soul craves, and that getting help doesn't make me weak, and that I'm capable of a lot that will require me to grow beyond what I'm comfortable with. 

My first Vietnamese drip coffee was ordered ENTIRELY by mistake, and gone in minutes because I became obsessed the minute it touched my tongue. 

I took this photo because I looked in the mirror and felt good. That's it. That's the whole explanation.

Many times, I've publicly expressed my hatred of being told, "You should smile more!" I've dedicated entire posts to explaining why that hurts me so hard. But the other day, something different happened. Good different. I smiled at the barista in the drive-thru and he said, "You have a really pretty smile, I hope you show it often."

That whole day, I couldn't help but do exactly that. 

Not unlike my mother, I can't ever pass up a cute notebook. Yesterday was a whirlwind, resulting in me skipping lunch just to go and buy new writing materials. I folded towels in a laundromat, went for a drive, harvested baby tomatoes, talked a lot, did some packing for the move, took a cold shower, spent the evening with a friend, and came home late in the pouring rain with a full and, as the notebook says, wild heart. 

Today I've written this. Today I woke up and decided to put everything else aside just to let myself sit in my favorite coffeehouse and write. I take my solitude very seriously, and my writing grounds me when I need that the most. I'm learning now, to protect my own peace. I'm learning how to say, "I'm sorry, but I just need myself right now." 

And then I'm learning to cut the apology out of that because I don't owe that to anyone.

It's messy. Healing is messy. Learning is messy. LIVING is messy. I've always described myself as "A red wine stain on a white dress in human form," for that reason. 

You never want to spill anything on a white dress, but inevitably it happens and one way or another you have to own that. You have to make a choice: to change, or cover it up, or embrace the fact that the stain is there now. 

I used to be a "cover it up at all costs" or "change so nobody knows that it happened" kind of kid. 

I'm getting further and further away from that by the day. By the minute, actually- because I'm realizing that those stains aren't anything to be ashamed of. They are, instead, evidence that life is happening to me and that I am living it well.

With a wild, wild heart that loves hard and is ready for anything. 

xoxo