When You Can't Sleep, Write.

I woke up this morning with the feeling that maybe I could go back to this as my boyfriend got ready to go to drill. In more attempts, I realized I would not be successful.

I laid in bed thinking about what I would do with the day and decided that I was going to make the most of it and go to the cafe I work at and write. So here I am, two hours later, all comfortable in my boots and scarf, relaxed.

But the bagel with avocado was so worth it. Let me update you on what has been happening. I have not been sleeping well as if you couldn't already tell.
I am very homesick, I really would like to go home and visit my family.
I also have my horses coming here as I write! I am oh so excited for that!

I think the most exciting thing for me is the fact that the first animal I have had as an adult to love and take care of and be my own is coming to live independently with me. And that means a lot to me.


Things are moving pretty slowly right now. The move is settling in, I am making and losing friends. I have so much to do and yet so little. I wish I had more motivation and more time. More days and hours to tell people I loved them and how much they meant to me.

I am also learning that I need to take time for myself. Like this morning, I am taking time for me, by just realizing all of these things as I am typing. I will probably make a list of things I want to do for the day after this to help me organize. I like lists, they make me feel more in control of things. It is like when you get too high, and you need something to ground you, like a sound or feeling. For me, it's the feeling of the cold.

And when I am feeling anxious or out of control, I make lists. Everyone has a different preference.

Tell me what is new with you guys, or maybe just check in mentally with yourselves. How are you doing? What are you battling internally and externally every day? What makes you feel out of control? What can you do to feel in control? Do you ever give too much and forget to give to yourself?

Here's a little perspective; my first tattoo was on the left side of my body. spiritually that is the side that you receive with. The rest of my tattoos I have gotten on the right side of my body, save for my semi-colon, which is on my ring finger, symbolizing my marriage to life.

Ever since I have been getting tattoos on my body, I have told myself to give. I have always wanted to give as much as I could to everyone around me, because it would mean that I never left anyone I came in contact with unloved. Except I forgot that also meant the person in the mirror was someone too.
I slowly have become exhausted by giving so much and forgetting to receive. So as of that epiphany, I will be getting another tattoo on my left side to symbolize my dedication to myself, and to receiving all that is presented to me, because I am human, and because life is a two-way street. It sounds hippy-ish, but that is because it is.

I hope you all are sleeping well, and remember to love, and be loved.

I love you all with the bottom of my heart.
XOXOXO

K

I had a friend named Kerrigan who once told me that

it was hard to eat because she had anxiety. 

I would try to feel bad but in the back of my mind

I would think, "It's easy, just eat the food"

She would disappear for hours to the bathroom during cheer camp or at dinner

Only to come back quiet and pale. 

I felt like the horrible person I was being internally

yet I stayed quiet. 

In high school, she loved everyone

And everyone loved her.

She had more friends than most people I have known through my life

always making sure everyone felt as loved as the next

I always wanted to be one

I always did feel like one, 

Yet I always wanted to be perfect, 

until I found out there is no perfect in this world

Over a year ago Kerrigan drove off of the side of an embankment, 

crushing her car 

Dreams 

and her frail cadaver that had been so filled with love

I got a call from my now ex-best friend 

with her haunting words saying

"Kerrigan's passed away" 

and with every slow heart beat my head screamed no this can't be happening

But it did. I have the colored scars to prove it. 

I used to think people were perfect, and if they could give so much love that they were happy. 

If I could I'd ask Kerrigan, who is now permanently laying silently in her final bed, 

while we, the imperfect ones, 

sit, stand, walk, run in her place, 

telling stories, 

raising families, 

hurting ourselves,

hurting others because this person taught us that 

Loving and giving are something that everyone should do

And we don't know how. 

And we don't want to because we aren't ready, 

We aren't ready to say goodbye to God's angel

We can't accept that everything does happen for a reason

No matter how twisted. 

[Pause] 

In high school, I met a girl named Kerrigan, who loved to sing. 

She taught me how to be imperfect. 

And the day she left I learned that our time together 

on this earth; was indeed

Perfect.