While getting ready I realize it’s another day I can’t wear mascara. “You’ll be sobbing later. I guarantee it.” I dry my hair and powder my face and leave without the coats of black I like the most. Looking just a bit off. Just a bit less put together than I like to be. Just a little bit different.
Maybe I think the dresses and the make up and the hair will make me feel like no one can tell I’m falling apart at the seams. Barely holding it together. Maybe I’m not actually as fucked up as I feel I am, and when I get ready in the morning I remember.
Remember. Remember that I know what it’s like to be okay. That I know what it’s like to not be hurting.
And Becka told me that your best looks different every day. And my guided mediation told me everything looks different every day. And Alyssa told me there is nothing wrong with me anyway.
There are no voids that need filling. That thing you think is emptiness is only there because you named it and you keep talking to it. You keep trying to change something that doesn’t exist, so of course it doesn’t seem to be working.
Every time you try, you draw more attention to it. It’s just like meditation in that way, isn’t it? How when you try to think about not thinking you just think more. When you get upset about getting upset you just get more upset.
All your feelings are compounding. They snowball. Pile up and drag us down. And you know that. So you start to feel like you ought to do better, be better.
But what if you could learn that you’re fine the way you are? That you don’t have anything you need to prove. That you’re lovable and worthy. That you don’t have to fix anything. That you’re okay.
That you are not a hollow shell. That you are ferocious and vibrant. That you are unbreakable.