Fumbling For Words

My heart is a messy bedroom I never take the time to clean.
The walls look as thick as an iceberg,
but if you take a closer look you'll see they're actually paper mache.
I like my body the best when I'm not worried about how much space it's taking up.
I've never been this myself around anyone.
It's freaking me out a little.

Sometimes my mind is as serene as my camp on Toddy Pond.
Other days, it's Thunder Hole.
Filled with crashing thoughts so loud I can't hear anything else.
You went into this knowing I was a total creep,
don't quit on me now.

Sometimes all I can say is "Hi", 
and when I say "Hi",
I mean I adore you.
And when I say that I adore you,
I mean I will check your horoscope.

Everyone loves to tell me to
"Trust my gut", 
But the truth is that most days my anxiety
Blocks out the sun
And my gut is begging me to abort mission.

I know you don't know this,
but there are balloons that you carry in your laughter
and I like them better than flowers.
And flowers are something that I don't understand 
unless they're still in the ground 
because how on Earth would you love a gift 
of something that's going to die?

So I just blew on my ice cream.
Apparently my brain thinks it needs to be colder.
And as I was contemplating that thought process,
I also blew on the following spoonful.

Sometimes I feel like the world is spinning out of control 
and then suddenly there's one face;
your face,
saying one word that makes it all stop.
The mind that is busier than the streets of New York and Tokyo combined
Just.  Stops.
And then the spinning becomes more like a dance move.
And I'm no longer fumbling for words because we understand the steps of the Tango.

Hi.
I'm a Pisces, how about you?

The Caterpillar

Happiness turned to me and said - "It is time.  It is time to forgive yourself for all of the things you did not become.  It is time to exonerate yourself for all of the people you couldn't save, for all of the fragile hearts you fumbled with in the dark of your confusion.  It is time, child, to accept that you don't have to be who you were a year ago, that you do not have to want the same things.  Above all else, it is time to believe, with reckless abandon, that you are worthy of me, for I have been waiting for years."

Last summer, I saw this meme:

2016:  The Caterpillar
2017:  The Cocoon
2018:  The Butterfly

I remember saying FUCK YES and saving it to my phone the second I saw it on my Instagram feed.  Three months ago I was so done being a Caterpillar.  To me, "becoming a Butterfly", meant that I'd finally overcome all the trauma, my finances were more in order and I'd be back 100% to loving my body as much as I used to.  That I would finally be on speaking terms with the Universe again because I could trust.  Becoming a Butterfly meant that I'd reached the end of my tunnel.  That the light wasn't just some moron with a magnifying glass.  So when the clock struck 12 on New Year's Eve - I was asleep - but the next morning I awake exclaiming "This is it!  My bullshit free year has begun.  I've paid my dues and I'm going to finally be a Butterfly!"

But that's not exactly what happened.....

I had no "Great Awakening".  My bruises from 2016 - or any resurfacing from childhood - didn't magically heal.  My health didn't instantly get better.  My stress level could still knock over a horse.  I didn't wake up on the first day of 2018 without the urge to spend every dollar in my wallet on the useless stuff at Target or fitting into the pants I've been holding onto for years.  Instead, I woke up the same person I was the day before.  A little more hopeful, perhaps, but the same old Jessie that existed the day before.

If the last few months have taught me anything, it's that the great awakening that I've been busting my ass for isn't going to happen.  At least not like I've hoped.  I've had many "awakenings" in my life, moments I learned hard lessons or experienced deep healing, but none of them completely transformed me into the flawless and perfect human I desperately wanted to be.

I'm not at all saying that I'm the same person that I used to be.  I'm definitely a stronger, more resilient, more real and more vulnerable version of myself.  I'm proud of who I've become!  I'm not perfect, nor do I ever want to be.  

And instead of looking for the light at the end of the tunnel, I've learned to be ok inside that tunnel and to create my own light.  

What if instead of waiting to evolve into Butterflies, we mold our world around the fact that we might remain a Caterpillar forever?  

What if we never get "there", but wherever we end up is good enough?

I think I might always be a Caterpillar.  Life will always be work and there will always be things that I can't control. And it's finally becoming ok with me.

Love yourself.  You're the only one you've got.
Be good to each other.

~ Cynicallovebird

The Glued On Smile

Every single time that I feel the rain of okay and it's tiny miniscule drops, I find myself treading in gallons of not okay and I end up just drowning in exhausted frustration.

If glitter is the herpes of the craft world, then mental illness is the glitter of the Healthcare Community. Hollywood absolutely loves it, but everyone is expected to clean up their own mess.

It's forcing yourself to find the capability to help a child that you can't even help because you don't even know how to help yourself.

It's adjustments; it's exasperated crying in the bathroom alone with every milestone that you never thought you would even hit, and then binge eating cookies when next week that milestone shows itself as the first step on Kilimanjaro.

It's dealing with a monster inside of your own mind that you don't know how to tame and then the next minute your child is the monster.

It's the I'm sorry that I'm late the 10th time but we couldn't find the other purple shoe and she just couldn't wear the black ones and yes, I understand that she's 16.

It's the you driving yourself crazy every second of every day feeling and looking and sounding exactly like a drill sergeant only this isn't the army and you aren't getting paid for any of it.

it's a hell that you've created with your own body.

It's being the most sarcastic person on the planet with the child that has the mind of a scientist and you're damn right that we're going to dance in the grocery store aisle for no reason.

It's knowing when to pick up the expensive stuff that she'll eat when she's having a crappy day because you know damn well she isn't going to eat anything else.

It's the drowning in not okay with exhausted frustration until you are bombarded with a huge wave of hope that brings you to the dry land.

But some days, there's a drought.