For the last few years, I have been shrouded in a lot of pain from loss.
In 2008, my grandmother passed. A few months later in 2009, a relationship that meant the world to me ended in a pretty messed up way. (She had a great butt. The ex, not my grandmother. Well...)
In 2010, a close friend died unexpectedly. (ReyeP.)
In 2011, I spent three agonizing weeks without a reliable cell phone. (This was the worst of the four, obvs.)
As a result, I dove deeper and deeper into who my coping mechanisms made me and farther and farther away from who I actually am. I eventually realized I was a very unhappy person and needed to confront my pain and how I was dealing with it.
I had spent so much time and energy sticking to the handful of things I excelled at while avoiding anything that might bring me an ounce of discomfort that I was running in the same solitary circle. I couldn't differentiate useful pain from abuse. I wasn't humble, I wasn't happy, and worst of all, I wasn't growing.
So I decided to grow the Fuck up.
Regular readers know I recently began therapy, where I regularly cry about not being good enough...
