begin again.
Fitful moments of self-doubt have crept back into my life. These are not the normal, general insecurities I deal with on a daily basis — these are more akin to the teenage fits of attitude that I once felt as my body bent and brewed with a flood of hormones through high school. These are angry moments where I look at the bits of my life as it is now and realize I have so much potential, still, at 29, and so much more to do, and I’ve bogged myself down with unresolved issues. The unresolved issues, that I need to work through, added with the violent cleave in my family structure, and an upcoming move and lifestyle change (which is to be celebrated! I’m so in love and ready for this change)…all swirls together and becomes this mass I cannot get around, I’m going to have to go through.
I haven’t been writing for myself, lately. I’ve been working as an intern with a local newspaper, and having a blast cutting my teeth in the field, and learning in real time what mistakes can make to a story on deadline. It’s exciting, thrilling, and hard work in addition to my esthetics job.
There’s a lot to say, and there’s a lot to work through. So I will be writing chapters of what I aim to work through, and towards, in the next few weeks.
What will be first? Revisiting the mental torture of gaslighting? The fractured familial relationships? My recent meltdown over my dog being minimally injured, and what that means? Struggles to prioritize my goals and making a living? The 30 pounds I need to lose and how it packed on so quickly? What being in love in the midst of all of the things I’m working towards, through, and for, is like?
The only answer I can give you is: 42.
