i'm okay

I can say that now.

It’s hard to tell exactly when every­thing became too much for me to han­dle, but I knew I reached sta­ble ground when Marie said it was nice to see me smile. It seems like she’s only seen me at my worse — when I’m not cop­ing and try­ing to ratio­nal­ize all the wrong things — but she still wel­comes me every time with­out any expec­ta­tions, and that’s the kind of accep­tance I need at this point in my journey.

self-portrait

This is my okay face.

Not to say there aren’t strug­gles, espe­cially months like this, when I’m deal­ing with col­i­tis flare-ups on a daily basis and the con­stant feel­ing of being over­whelmed. Between the time I spend to nour­ish myself, find­ing peace with so much of my past, and this love that found me, I’ve started to under­stand how life can catch up to a per­son with­out warn­ing. There’s barely a chance to process the devel­op­ments in my head, let alone record curves and colours with a camera.

I’m anx­ious to get to the point where I can start grow­ing instead of heal­ing, and liv­ing instead of sur­viv­ing. Being okay means it’s eas­ier to deal with the inse­cu­ri­ties and moments of weak­nesses I face on my way there.

4 comments

  1. Holy shit! YOu do not look OK…wow.

  2. I think you’re beau­ti­ful; inside and out. So much cre­ativ­ity and kindness.

  3. i love this pic­ture of you.

    i miss you a lot.

    I want to play ukule­les together again.

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