I haven't been sleeping well. I'm too...something. Too wired. Too antsy. My legs won't stop twitching and my mind won't stop wandering. I dwell on the inane and the insane.
"Why are my veins all protruding recently? Am I dying? What would WebMD say?"
"Is Kevin happy? Why does he lick himself so much? Why doesn't he lick himself more?"
"Where am I going to live in two months?"
"Why am I so mean to myself?"
"Why do I try so hard?"
"Why don't I try harder?"
"What do I want to do?"
"Who do I want to be?"
"Is there ice cream in the freezer?"
On this, the third night of raging sleeplessness, I decided to take a melatonin early so that I could drop into sleepy time without a hitch. It hasn't worked yet. I read a book. I watched some Netflix. I took pictures of my dog. Then I decided to get ready for bed. The roommate is away, so I've been T-shirt and
underpant-ing it up for bed the last few nights out of a weird sense of rebellion. I know. Underpant-ing is not a word. Get your own blog.
I washed my face and scrubbed with all my might. I used my water pick. Brushed my teeth. I took out my eyeballs. Took my hair down and applied night cream. And stared at my reflection in the mirror. Make-up less except the smear of mascara I always miss under my right eye. Hair in disarray. White long underwear shirt and granny panties with a paisley pattern on them. I've been skipping the hair dye as it's expensive to do right and a mess to do myself. The mousy brown strands that I've been dyeing since I was 12 peeked out from above the dark brown ends. I looked. And looked closer (I'm blind without my eyeballs.) And I realized something extraordinary.
I like myself. I finally like myself. I felt more beautiful and together in those few moments than I have for the last few years.
I've been panicking for the last couple of months...
whereamigoingtobewhatamigoingtodowhoamidopeoplelikemewhyamidoingthisjobidon'tknowhowtodowhyaminotgoodenoughmaybeishouldrunawaystartoverwhydidiscrewthatupican'tdoanythingrightsomeonetellmewhattodoi'mnothappywillibehappywillieverbehappy WILL I EVER BE HAPPY?
The answer is yes. I will. I am. I just have to look more. It took a mental breakdown at work, a vacation with people I love, lots of wine and lots of puppy kisses, but I am happy. At least with myself and the rest can fall into place.
I like the mousy brown. It's me. It's who I am and who I was meant to be. I don't need to hide that person anymore. I'm not fooling anyone by being this figment of who I really am. I can have hard days and I can have joyful days. I just need to LOOK and realize that no matter what I do or where I am, what I wear or what I say, the constant is me. And liking me is the first step in an awesome adventure that is the rest of my life.
NOW IF THE MELATONIN COULD KICK IN, EVERYTHING WOULD BE GREAT.