Move that foot

I get these urges to change everything. It’s like an energy runs up my body from my toes. My feet start to move and once they do I’m gone. When I make a decision, I MAKE a decision. In college, when I would lie in my bed cozy in warm sheets contemplating whether or not I should make it into class, it’d take just a split second where I’d think, “nope!” turn onto my belly and let my face fall back asleep into my pillow. No regret, my mind was set and I’d fall asleep HARD. When I decided to quit a job, it was something I let tumble in my brain for a while, but the actual decision of it came quick and resolute. Like super resolute. A hefty raise, provided housing, and altered hours couldn’t get me to stay once I told myself I was done. When I decided to move across the country, I thought about it for about three seconds, then told my family I was leaving in a month. When I decided to follow my heart, there was literally nothing that could sway me. I make spontaneous decisions and I pronounce them as my new law. I’ve often wondered if this characteristic of myself is something I should worry more about, but then I decide, naw it was what I wanted and I don’t feel bad about it. I am where I am and I’m happy for it all. For the most part…

Decisions are big. You put one foot ahead of the other sometimes not knowing where your next step will take you, but still, you take that step. Thoughtfully planned and intentional, or impulsive and uncharted, decisions show that you know what you want, but more importantly, that you care enough about what you want to do something about it. Doing something. That is huge. Whether it be a verdict on an ankle sock, or a moving across the country type, celebrate each accord as their own.

Fight for what you want. You know what you want. You do. If you don’t think you do, well then you’re just scared, scared, or scared. Make decisions. Tell your significant other where the fuck you want to eat. YOU KNOW.

Being true to yourself is really where it stems. We make up excuses. And damn, they’re usually pretty good. But they are what they are. Excuses hide your intentions. 

Love yourself enough to make the choice to decide. Love yourself enough to leap to that rock you’ve been staring at above you. Love yourself enough to run towards what you want. Love yourself enough to walk away from what is not good enough. If it doesn’t give you butterflies, leave. Love yourself so you can give love. It starts with a kick in the ass, water thrown at your face, a slap in the face, a kiss, a laugh, a good song, a view bigger than you, and a conversation with a crazy stranger. It starts with something that inspires you to make a goddamn move. Make the damn move and follow the urge in your gut. It’s probably right, and worse comes to worst, it’s wrong. But at least you did something. Doing nothing is a waste of your time, and it’s a waste of my time. And I hate my time wasted.

Just another reason to make a wish

It’s the eve of my 26th birthday and it is by far the least excited I have been yet to turn another year older. This year is a big one for me. 25 seemed like a milestone, and passing the quarter-century point is something of a feat in adulting. This is the birthday the government gives us newly turned 26-year-olds the stiff-armed pushed into adulthood. This is the year they say “hopefully you have your shit together, we know your joints are starting to hurt more than they did in your early 20’s, your hangovers only seem to be getting worse, and gray is now part of the color spectrum on your head, but even so, you can’t mooch off your parents forever, get your own fucking health insurance.”

There are only a few circumstances that newly turned 26-year-olds find themselves in. They will breathe a sigh of relief, wake up, and roll out of bed to the job that is providing them with a health plan. Or, they will reach a little further into their pockets to pay for their own insurance. Or, they will risk it and go without. Those scenarios have been sitting on my shoulder this whole past year whispering their sweet anxieties into my ears.

The last week has felt heavy. The last month felt heavy. Hell, 25 has been a heavy year for me.

Minutes before it turned 12 am, marking my birthday—yes I paid attention— I’m trying to remember some of my recent past birthdays. Some I could remember easily, some were a bit foggy as to how I spent my day. I thought that was odd, not remembering. But, I do know that each one of them I had some type of plan that included celebrations, usually which involved drinking adult beverages and inviting friends to spend the day with me. This year is by far the tamest, and I am so ok with that.

So, it’s 12:07 am, newly 26,  and I’m flossing my teeth. Just 10 minutes earlier I was looking into the dance moves in Fortnite with my little brother.

Life as of recently has been felt nothing short of a rollercoaster ride. Specifically, the kind that takes you up and down and turns you upside down to the point where if the seatbelts malfunctioned you’d definitely find yourself catapulted out of your seat. Even so, grateful is what I feel, and there has been a growth within me that I am proud of.

As daunting as 26 has been, I do feel a lightness that is unexpected and welcoming. 25 was challenging and this next year maybe even more so, but it provides some changes that I have been desperately grasping for. I’m not sure how long this lightness will last for, I’m only one hour into being 26, but I’m going to fly with it as long as the magic carpet will let me.

I don’t want to say that I’m ditching all that has been, but, really, yeah, I kinda am.

 

The girl with calloused feet

You don’t know her world, but how could you?

She sees different colors.

You don’t feel the tightrope that cuts through her feet and makes her feel strong.

She walks it alone. 

You don’t feel how her thoughts surround her.

She feels it all. 

Sometimes she doesn’t know if she’s falling, or if she’s dancing,

So she embraces both. 

 

For the heartbroken

Breakups sure do screw with you. I’ve went from having an entire apartment full of my stuff to having just a lil room. My life got turned upside down. It’s been quite a ride, and sitting back thinking about it all, grateful is what I feel. I’ve been able to make wherever I live comfortable, homey and, most importantly, me. Frequently, I have thought myself out of self loathing, and found new meanings to things. I am one of those hopeless romantic types, and with that comes great heartache. I have lived a version of my own hell, and made my way out a bit taller.

It’s never too late to find yourself and discover what you want. Make the best out of situations, and don’t lose sight of what’s important to you.

Hey, we all have those moments where we feel our whole world is crashing on top of us. Grinding teeth, shaky hands, and stuttering words are side effects of shit hitting the fan. I am no stranger to tough emotional times–just like everyone else. I think it’s important to remember that you’re not in it alone. You are not the only person feeling tragic and hopeless. And guess what? You WILL get through it. I promise you. Lame as it sounds, time will make things better. Perspectives will change. You’ll start to feel stronger. The little things will become more important. Life will be enjoyable again in ways you thought weren’t possible.

For me, my head and heart are constantly fighting. I actually have dreams of me shouting at myself, “Stop caring!” I often wonder if it’s better to be smart and protect your heart, but then I wonder if it’s better to love hard even if you might get hurt. It’s a predicament that I’m sure many can relate to. Heartache sucks ass. Big time. Even if you allow yourself only a week or even a day to feel sad, that week or day will be the longest and suckiest time you’ve had in awhile. Guaranteed torture. Like rib stabbing torture. Heartache is heartache–no matter how long it lasts.

The conclusion I’ve come to, at this moment in my life, is that feeling is the most important thing to me. I want to feel it all–happiness, excitement, flattery, pain, heartache, disappointment…As long as I know I am living out every moment, I’m okay with the fact that afterwards may not feel as great. I guess I’d rather love than to not love. I’d rather hurt after a heartache, than not have that love in the first place. Give me pain if it means I can feel love.