I wasn’t perfect
But the world didn’t fall apart
I still wasn’t perfect
And the world still didn’t fall apart
I tried not even trying to be perfect
And the world stayed intact
I tried being imperfect on purpose
And the world just kept spinning
I gave up on perfection
And the whole, intact, spinning world glistened with possibility
Between two laptops, constant travel, and an irregular sleep schedule, I am having a lot of trouble keeping track of what I have blogged about and what has yet to be written. I’ve been viewing this as a bad thing, but today I have realized that it also means that I am waking up every day with nothing on my to do list, nothing stressing me out, nothing causing a knot in my stomach.
I have always been uptight, though most people don’t see that side of me: waiting longer than anyone expected to have sex or smoke pot; resisting peer pressure quite easily be maintaining a fierce identity as an outsider; color coding my notes in classes; alphabetizing bookshelves as a leisure activity; etc. This part of myself has kept me out of a lot of bad situations and makes me an incredible secretary/organizer, but, I have realized in the past few years, it has also made me physically and mentally unwell.
I have always associated food with stomach pain, for instance. Now, hardly anything makes me feel ill because my stomach is relaxed enough to do its job. Mentally, panic attacks and internalized self loathing (because I felt I couldn’t control the situation or my reactions to it) have also been caused by being so anal.
So the fact that I don’t blog regularly or, more importantly, that waking up each day with no to do list doesn’t freak me out is such an incredible blessing.
I get lost in my head a lot. Not lost like day dreaming; lost like a deep dark forest with an evil witch from the original Grimm Brothers’ tales and it’s very likely that I will not make it out alive. My head, while often a comfort because of the numbness and/or strict containment it can summon, has been a place where I am terrified to exist, much less explore.
“Finally, finally things are changing…” That’s from a Dido song that I love – “This Land is Mine”. Anyway, things are changing. And for that I am incredibly grateful.