let the self expression be free girlie

november 18, 2024

august

there’s still sand in my car from when i went to the beach this summer. i look at it and feel like a “bad” adult.

september

i’m trying to be more honest, more authentic. i learned very young how to tailor and adjust my words to please whoever was listening, and it takes a fair amount of effort to just write and speak without any other filters.

i started posting consistently in august and started to see the “my target audience” posts from other people. i looked up from my phone and broke the fourth wall like jim does in the office and said, “i don’t have a target audience, do i? should i get one?” i felt like a bad “business woman/writer/content something something etc etc whatever…” and then i woke up the other day, opened my eyes and i said, “i’m my target audience” i write for me. i have got to set my own self expression free, she has been picked, plucked, reshaped and molded over and over again for everyone by myself. it’s time to just let her be, don’t touch her anymore, the target audience is you honey.

october

i look around my house, i see disassembled furniture, boxes i haven’t taped up yet, bags of trash i haven’t taken out to the dumpster. i’m living in the big room upstairs, mattress on the floor like the cheap versions of the forts i used to make in my living room, gaming computer up against the opposite wall, one suitcase packed, and another laid open almost full. i don’t know what to think about it, how to feel about it. partly i’m frustrated because i’m just tired of being here. this place hasn’t felt like home in a while and well, im lonely and am very ready to not be lonely anymore.

i asked my dad if i could borrow his truck to move some things to salvation army. he said yes but didn’t offer or ask if i needed help. it wasn’t until i started moving things into the back of the truck that i realized i wouldn’t be able to because it was filled with things from his construction job. two or three times i tried to ‘girlboss’ it, moving pieces of furniture back and forth twisting them this way and that way. but each piece demanded more space and refused to fit and so i stood in my living room and cried and screamed. cried from feeling lonely, cried from the frustration of having to do this really big thing by myself. starting my life over feels like pushing a boulder up a hill, i push a little with my arms, i turn around and try to push it with my back. the boulder is moving, it's just moving r e a l l y slow.

i stop to wonder if that means i’m not supposed to move, but then i remind myself that i don’t want to be here anymore, that i’m ready for something new and that’s more than enough reason to leave.

i’ve been conditioned my entire life to worry about the optics of my life, how it looks to people, what they’ll think when they look and see me. and i’m taking so long to finally pull the trigger on getting out of here and my first reflex is to worry about what that looks like and what assumptions people are making (this is such a vulnerable truth, and it is also my one ick about myself).

i’m taking so long to move, was held back by fear for so long and now that i’ve been gathering courage in my cheeks like squirrels do with nuts for the winter. i find i’m being held back, holding myself back for some other reason that disappears like smoke when i try to grab hold of it and call it out by name.

november

i have $7.02 in my bank account. i’ve been happily unemployed since i quit my job april of 2022 and this has happened before. i took one huge leap of faith and left my very steady, consistent paycheck teaching job and ever since the universe has supported me. somehow, someway, the money just finds me. so i look at my $7.02 and i wonder how many cans of beans i can get for that much, wonder if i can squeeze a gallon of gas out of that. and then the truth is, is that i panic and wonder if i should just go back to teaching, i think of my friend who has a work from home customer service job and wonder if i should go and apply for one of those. then i remind myself of the alchemist, i remind myself that i’ve been here before and every single time i’ve been okay. i remind myself that the journey i’m on is good for the plot and this is gonna make for one hell of a story 3-4 months from now. i know i’m going against the grain on a lot of things and i can’t explain it, in fact i don’t have to, i just know it feels right. i’m supposed to be here, relinquishing control and trusting the universe to come through for me like it’s been doing. my intuition is doing a thing, and i know im on the right path, and that’s enough for me to keep going. that and, i’ve come entirely way too far, to turn back now.

when i was teaching, the students would have standardized tests. once at the beginning of the school year, another before the holiday break in december and then again either before or after spring break. my effectiveness as a teacher was based on how much growth my students had. i would sit down with each student and we would talk about their scores. “mason? come here honey, it’s your turn.” one by one the students would sit next me and we’d talk huddled around my laptop, in hushed whispers about their scores. “okay so this was you when you first got to first grade, and this is you now.” some would look at me confused and i’d explain how the chart worked and what the two numbers meant. others would look at me with pride in their eyes because they had grown a lot. and then there were a few who would look at the screen, then look at me, then look at the screen, then look back at me and with every fiber in my soul and belief in my gut, i’d tell them that any progress over time is a good thing, you didn’t move far, but you moved honey, you know more than you did 3 months ago and that’s all we need to know.

so i look at myself now, my small steps, the small foundations of consistency, reparenting and showing up for myself and whisper, “that’s progress over time babe, you’re doin good.” i remind myself that progress is progress and one day i’ll see how all of these little things have been coming together to build the life we want. but in the meantime, i’ll just keep resting and take small steps. and i’ll let that be enough.