9:33 AM

I’ve been awake for an hour or so, and I just finished a continental breakfast here at the glorious Comfort Inn and Suites in Carbondale, Colorado. Check out is in an hour and a half, so I’m about to take a shower, pack up, and hit the road. (It’s been real.) My destination is Albuquerque, where my sister lives, and it should take about eight hours, stops included. Because I’m still feeling yuck, blah, and gross, I imagine it’s going to be a long day. Jesus, take the wheel. Still, at the end of the road will be the ones I love. All things considered, life is good.

If it’s not obvious, I’ll be writing the blog in “installments” today to make my life easier. If you can think of some little something to make your life easier today, do it–you have my full support.

4:12 PM

I think I just set a new personal record. I drove for five and a half hours without a pit stop. I didn’t realize that was possible, so I’m considering nicknaming my bladder Champ. Who knows why the sudden change in behavior? Usually I pee constantly. Maybe my kidneys got enlightened this weekend, or maybe I’m just dehydrated.

The drive so far has been surreal. For whatever reason, my mind is at ease, and my usual sense of nervousness is nowhere to be found. Even when driving along narrow roadways with steep drop-offs, I was like, Whatever. I’ve only taken one picture (at a stoplight in Aspen), but the scenery has been gorgeous–Colorado and New Mexico in the fall are basically God’s backyard. Anyway, I’m in road-warrior mode and ready to see my nephews, so I’ll write more later.

8:08 PM

I got to my sister’s a couple of hours ago. When I arrived, the nephews started bouncing off the walls, and even Ander (the younger one), who usually hides from me, went nuts. They were skipping, jumping, leading me outside then back in. Eventually I sat down for dinner (thanks, Dee-Anne) and visited with my sister and her husband while Ander scooted across the kitchen floor on his back and repeatedly said, “Ow, ow, ow.” My brother-in-law said, “Imagine this non-stop for seven years.” I said, “I can’t.”

Seriously, how do parents do it? Well, how do parents who don’t drink do it?

Before Christopher (the older nephew) went to bed, he put a craft book on the table and asked me to help him make a paper airplane.  Seriously, this kid is great with building and making things, so he probably could have done it himself, but I guess this was an “advanced” model. Y’all, uncle-ing is hard. The instructions had like ten steps–the plane had a tail fin and everything. It was super detailed, complicated actually, and a couple times I thought, I can’t figure this out. But then I did–it finally came together. What’s more, it flew!

That’s right, I’m thirty-seven and can make a paper airplane.

But get this shit. Christopher–that little turd–ran straight to my sister and said, “Mom–I made an airplane!”

(Awkward pause)

“Well, I helped make one.”

9:40 PM

For the last hour I’ve been chatting with my sister, but she just went to bed because she’s a mom. Anyway, I really like her. We talked about our family, school, and our individual responses to some of the bullshit we went through as children–specifically the fact that she expressed her emotions back then and I stuffed mine way, way down. (It’s okay, they’ve been working their way back up–like they do.) Since Dee-Anne lives so far away and most of my healing progress has happened the last few years, sometimes I forget that she went through a lot of the same stuff I did. Of course, it’s always good to remember that you’re not alone. We always have more support than we realize.

10:08 PM

A couple hours ago I realized that today’s blog is number 200. That’s 200 days in a row of sitting down, more than once propping my eyelids open with toothpicks, and opening my mind and heart for both me and the world to see. The goal is every day for a year, and I recently hit the halfway mark (183 days), but I note it on the blog every fifty days if I remember. So that’s why we’re talking about it now.

When I started this blog over six months ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Since I’ve been living back at home, I was originally going to call the blog Me and My Parents, then Me, My Parents, and My Therapist. But I thought, Surely I’ll move out again one day, so I dropped my parents altogether (but just from the blog). Anyway, as I’m writing about the blog now, it makes me want to cry. Maybe that’s because I’ve come to think of it as a friend. We have all these memories together. Each night we cuddle up together, I talk about my day, and the blog listens, wraps me up in its arms, and tells me I’m okay.

I’ve said it before, but I can’t overemphasize what a positive journey this has been. I’m out of work, living with my parents, and really have no idea what the rest of my life will hold. On the surface, I don’t have a lot to show. But beneath the surface, where it counts, I’m better than I ever have been. I’m less afraid and more sure than ever before. I’m more self-confident, comfortable in my own skin. I’m not perfect, of course, but I own my shit and am either working on it or okay with saying, “I’m fine the way I am.” The reason I want to cry, of course, is because I realize it’s not the blog that’s been my friend these last 200 days–it’s me–I’m the one who’s been there for me.

10:31 PM

At the spiritual retreat this last weekend, the teacher was joking about how people approach their spiritual lives, like, “Oh yeah, I’ve got a few free hours between errands today, I’ll check out that meditation thing.” This attitude, of course, is ridiculous. After all, he said, what’s more important than your freedom?

I’ve thought about this question off and on today. I know I’ve worried a lot this last year about how I’m going to make a living or what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, but when I consider how much freer, happier, and peaceful I am now as compared to six months ago, all that “worldly stuff” pales in comparison. I’m not saying this process has been easy. On the contrary, there have been plenty of days that it’s felt like making a complicated paper airplane and letting someone else take the credit for it. Often the road has been long, and I haven’t felt so great. Still, I’d recommend the journey to anyone. For surely learning to be there for yourself is the essence of healing, and making time to be your own friend is time well spent. And here’s what I can promise–at the end of the road will be the ones you love (and that includes you), and things will finally come together.