I have found the most amazing people. I am so lucky to have met the people that are in my life. So many good people care about me, they love me and I love them. I have the most wonderful friends, not just here in NY. Life isn’t perfect and I’m perpetually anxious that mine will fall apart at any moment, but I live a good one. It is charmed and so full of Love, and much more comfort than many others. I am free to be “selfish,” to take time to delve into my inner being. Hell, I have time to meditate. There are days I sleep well into the afternoon. I have friends who root for me to succeed all the time, who are happy for me when I’m happy, and who check in when I’m unwell. I have always tried to do things alone or, at least, I felt alone. But I’m not, and I’m just so grateful.
I enjoy my life a great deal, and I love who I am. I like being smart, if lazy. I like that sometimes I’m actually a little funny, and I often laugh at my own lame jokes. I think I would make the best mommy, and I do not hide that I’m baby crazy. I think I’m a pretty good singer, even if I’m my harshest critic, and I don’t totally suck at acting. I’m creative and a good writer (your opinion may vary). Despite my feeling generally unaccomplished, I’ve lived a rather interesting life. At least, it’s been more varied than a lot of the people I’ve met. I think it’s ironic that most of my free time is spent binge-watching the same shows over and over again. Of course, it’s an Alanis Morissettian idea of irony, so it could be something else entirely. Despite any hardships, I have had a blessed life. Things could be so much harder.
There was a time when I thought life was nothing but pain. I struggled to see beauty where all I knew was waste. The world was mean, people were sick, and I was only safe alone. Until, eventually, I wasn’t even safe from myself. In poetry and music, I hunted for clarity and pored into my soul. I cycled through phases of anger, despair, and hate. At different times, I hated myself, my family, God, lovers. I hurt myself and, unintentionally, I hurt others. Yet, somehow, I didn’t just give in. All of my life, I told myself to be good—a good person, a good student, good in bed. As long as I was good, I could deal. I could deal with the darkness around me; I could try not to succumb to it. So, I went to therapy, began to search for truth, learned to love, and I kept trying to be good.
I have this mental illness that presents itself in many ways, and it makes it hard to be good sometimes. Even now, though I have much more control, I make a lot of mistakes. I have done things that a good person wouldn’t, and as they were happening, I felt righteous. I felt entitled. I do not pretend that I am the best person, that I don’t do bad things. I do, I have, and I enjoyed being bad when I was. But I don’t enjoy hurting people. In a way, that’s what saves me. The idea of hurting people I care for, of disappointing the important people in my life, helps me to remember that I want to be good. It inspires me to continuously strive to be a better person each day than I was the day before.
I’m also able to look at the girl that I’ve been, the woman I became, and the person I am today with love. After working for more than a decade to understand myself and the way my own brain works, I don’t regret my mistakes. I love who I am and all the things I’ve done and experienced that brought me here. I still feel like a fragmented person, but I’ve picked up a shit ton of pieces over the years. When I find myself in dark places, I try to create rather than destroy. I’m healing, and a huge boost in my recovery has been the result of moving to New York. I have friends all over, but the support system I have here is mind-blowing. I’m constantly worried that I’m not giving enough back, that I’m not as much of a friend as my friends are. Goddess knows, that’s been the case before. There are two friends in Chicago that I think I’ve been almost as loyal to as they have to me, and I’m pretty terrible at keeping in touch. I want to do better, and it seems that I am.
Yes, this changing life of mine has improved so much. I have amazing friends, work I enjoy, time to write, meditate, and read. I can pursue my passions, be a weirdo, let my emotions fly as I learn new ways to heal and grow, and I can feel free. I can explore my fears and my desires. We live in a most marvelous and frightening time. I have so much in my life to be thankful for.
Now, I’ve realized that I want someone to share it with. Not just someone, so that I won’t be lonely. Not another fantasy or unhealthy attachment. I want a partner. I don’t want to date around, meet people in bars. I won’t be searching for someone to be the partner chapter in the Book of Me. I won’t be waiting. I’ll be learning myself, creating my ideal life, living my bliss; and when the time comes, I’ll be open.
It may be that I find myself open to someone magical, but the timing is bad. As devastating as it is when it happens, I may get my heart broken. It’s happened numerous times and could many more. I’m willing to risk it. I could fall in love a thousand times, and I won’t stop believing in it. I don’t think I’ll grow cold. Believe me, I’ve tried. I am the definition of a hopeless romantic, and it’s high time I admit it. Almost two and a half decades of Disney princesses, rom coms, musicals, romance novels, and drama of all sorts have deeply programmed me to believe that Love is the ultimate truth. Love is the essence of the Divine. I have a life full of love, but I never quite got a grip on the romantic kind. It incarnated in different, twisted forms throughout my life, but I know there’s something beautiful for me. Not perfect, but just right for me. I believe that. My life is remarkable, and there is someone out there who will add to it in a way I’ve never known. And I will add to theirs.
Until then, I will continue to create, to love, and to be grateful. I will be the fabulous, if odd and slightly ridiculous, individual that I am. I will try to be a good person to the magnificent people in my life, and I will try to grow. My emotions will continue to be intense, as I continue to be open and strive to stay vulnerable. I will be kind, maybe even a little naïve, and cry when I’m sad. I will laugh and I will forgive. I’ll look at my fears and offer hope. And I’ll sing and remember that I am not alone.