Wake Up...It Feels Good

To finish out the first week of the project, I got all the bread, peanut butter, jelly, and bottled water I needed to make sandwiches to take to a homeless shelter in Columbus. Over the last week, the brakes on the car started to make us a liiiittle nervous, and driving home from my mom's yesterday, it was apparent: there was no way I was leaving town. Ugh. Sigh. Pout. I've learned how to deal with the brakes this past week, leaving them as much life as possible, but the idea of having to be in potential traffic, or come to a fast, defensive stop, was not an option. Bummer. That said, everything happens as it's supposed to happen, and last night turned out to hold the key to progress. I'll take the sandwiches when the brakes are fixed. Yes, that sounds much safer.

I woke up abruptly this morning, feeling rested for the second time in a row...that almost never happens. I slid out of bed, started the pot of coffee, had a bagel while it brewed, and sat down to do some writing. Now, I'm here talking to you. Well...talking to myself, really. But it may turn out that I'm talking to you at some point later today. (By the way, it's an odd feeling to log in to Blogger, see the number of page views I've had, and not know who it is that I'm actually talking to. Surreal). Hello, friends! Whoever you are....

So, here's the thing: I'm not a skinny girl. That probably doesn't come as a shock to you if you know me, but recently, it came as a shock to me (in my head) that I would like to think that no one knows that but me, though most surely do. Well, it's true. I just never wanted to admit it. All my life, I've seen pictures and thought that if the rest of the world never saw them, they'd never know. It was just my way of never telling myself the truth- a seemingly easy thing to do.

I'm a "stander". If you've known me for more than a short time, you may actually understand what that is. It means that people have always said to me, "Sit down, honey; be comfortable; you're making me nervous." To which I would reply, "Oh, that's okay. I'm a stander. I prefer it, but if it really starts to make you uneasy, I'll sit." Then, they would inevitably come back with, "No, that's okay...stand if that's what you like. It's cool."

Well, it's not what I like (except on certain occasions)! I have been uncomfortable for seventeen years! But I never told you that, so it became my burden to bear. There was no way I was going to sit. To sit is to reveal one's flabbiest form. To sit is to allow fat rolls free reign, unless of course you sit up straight as a board, which I did many a time, but that is far less comfortable than standing. Thus, I was a stander. I have probably spent four years of my life standing, detached, unable to really be a part of something, because I didn't want to be me. If I've ever made you uncomfortable on account of my standing, I apologize. However, the standing likely led to my burning more calories than had I been sitting, and it probably led to my becoming a walker, which is one of my great loves, and I'd never take it back. In fact, it was a walk last night that led to my finally being able to say something I had needed to say (even to myself) for a long time. Oh, and watching Youtube videos of ThE tUnE-yArDs. She speaks truth. My truth. And so, the honesty began to flow. And I feel more like a whole human being than I have ever felt.

 "I'm just kind of a fat girl. I'm tired of pretending to be something I'm not, when everyone knows I am anyway. It's why I stand all the time. I don't think I've ever told anyone that. It's exhausting. I'm tired. I don't want to do it anymore."

To which he said, "Well, sit you down, girl. Take a load off." The beauty of it was that I was already sitting, because it was time. And he smiled. And he kissed my cheek. And he was warmed by my honesty. And he said he loved me. And I think he really does...still...after all this time, all this....

I've always been an open, forward person- a social butterfly, an answer-the-call emergency friend. I said "yes" to too much outside stuff, and "no" to too many important, personal things. Women. I am as neurotic as the next. In fact, I think I became a writer, and tried to become good at it, because it was a way to let my neuroses out in a creative fashion. I am bat shit crazy. I'm loud. I talk too much. I'm a busybody. I'm overbearing. I'm jealous. I'm often uncomfortable in social situations. I smoke too much. I drink too much coffee. That said, I don't drink anymore, and that was a major saving grace. Drunk Breana was not cool, despite the fact that she thought she was, and (thank goodness) it's been an awfully long time since she came out to play. Life is far easier without her.

Regardless, last night was so liberating. I have felt more balanced in the last few months than I probably ever have, and the more I continue with this project, the better I feel. It's amazing what happens when you do what you really believe you're supposed to do. I am learning who my friends are. I am learning what my relationship is. I'm learning what family means. I'm learning how to be me. Freely. Fearlessly. Well, it's a process- a path, if you will- and I'm finally comfortable with it.

Maybe some of you know what this feels like- how exhausting it is to try to be someone you're not, all the while you're actually still who you are, but you don't want to accept that, so you keep trying to convince yourself that with all this effort, one day you'll wake up and be the person you want people to think you are. (I got tired just saying that).

The world already sees you. Let that be. Every person you come in contact with has their own perception of you. Let that be. Stop trying to correct the perceptions you have of yourself, and just be. It's not exhausting. Not at all. We get tired enough just trying to exist in societies that are forcing us to move and think faster than we were built to. Don't make it worse.

Wake up.

It feels really good.