Things have been shifting in me pretty rapidly as of late. I’ve had my ass kicked a couple of times lately by some old friends. And even though I was grateful for the effort they put into it, I wasn’t really expecting the effects to last more than a couple of days. I expected the doubt and uncertainty to start creeping in. The fear to set up camp and light a fire.

But there’s no sign of those unwelcome guests at the moment. They’ve not sent postcards signaling their imminent arrival. They’ve not called right in the middle of dinner. There is simply no sign of them.

And that’s got me a bit disconcerted. Part of me is waiting anxiously for them to show up carrying a picnic of self loathing and distraction. But part of me is just done. In a fuck it, let’s do this thing sort of way. I think maybe during one of my much needed and much deserved ass whoopings, that I made a decision.

I think I made a decision to stop screwing around and just get to work. And keep working, regardless of whether my own personal sky was black with rain or full of sunshine.

That maybe I just decided to start believing everything that those who love me have been trying to tell me for years. That I deserve to be happy. That I am worth the love that has been given to me so freely. That I am beautiful and talented and capable. And mostly, that I am strong. Really, really strong. That I can make it through anything. I just had to make the choice.

And made it I have. Right now my life, my mind, my heart are full of huge things. Gigantic ideas and feelings spanning time and definition. I know that eventually, as I get good at this, that the day to day will carry with it as much joy as the big stuff does now. That I will once again embrace meal planning as much as I do life planning.

My feet will come back to earth as the rest of me stays flying. It’s all about the balance baby.

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