November is the month for pilgrims

If I am being honest, I am not okay right now.

I am not okay and it is hurting the people I love the most.  I am scared and defensive.  And I hate it.

I want to be home.  I want to be held.  I want to be able to fix myself.  I want to be better.

I felt like I was finally finding myself this past spring and summer. I felt like I had found the place where I fit, the home for my heart.  Not a physical place, but a feeling.  It was full of music and art and laughter and I felt like I belonged.  Like this was what I’d been looking for my entire life.  That feeling.  I felt like I was finally really becoming myself.  I was letting myself be true.  And it felt good.  It felt safe.  It felt peaceful.

Out here, I dont feel that.  I feel anxious.  I feel like I’m in a box, pushing the walls away or curling in a corner to cry.  I feel like my body is lined with tiny little shards of glass and I so desperately need someone to hold me up, to help me, but I’m afraid I’ll cut them to pieces if they get too close.

I want to do something drastic, to feel like I am valuing happiness enough to say that I will take a leap of faith and trust the pieces to fall into place.  To just drop out and move back and let life take me where it will.  To take care of myself for once.  To say that I am valuing myself enough to do something that seems stupid because it just might make me feel okay.  That me feeling alright is worth more than sensibility or practicality.  To jump and let the world cushion me.  To admit that I deserve to be happy.

But practicality, finances, tickets, classes, and boxes hold me back.  Hold me here.  And hold me unhappy.  And I don’t know how to proceed.  I’m a pilgrim, but Tinker Creek seems frozen over.  I don’t want to be a lone polar explorer.

This is very emotional.  And maybe I’ll regret that.  But better out than in, right?


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