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.

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.