Lost Girl, Found Girl

Just a therapy session

I am okay. I'm okay, not being okay. I am not shiny, this is who I am. I am grey, an improvement from black. I am an overcast December day, when your breath and the silence hang in the air right before the first snowfall.

I love all the wrong people. Or maybe I keep loving the right people at the wrong times, and all the wrong people love me...all the time. At this point, I don't know if love exists anymore. Romantic love, anyways. The cyber age makes it impossible. My emotional shortcomings make it impossible.

I'm a lost girl. A girl who loves rainy days and scary movies on cold October nights. A girl who wants to give everything, regardless of what she gets in return. A girl who wants to tell you to leave, but lets you spend the night because this is probably the last time. A girl who drinks too much, and likes junk food, and cries to cope with pain.

I'm a found girl. A mother to a beautiful boy, the sole reason for my existence. A dog lover. A nerd in her own way. I am a good friend. I care, usually too much, but, Jesus, at least I care. I sing in the car. I dance like a fool. Babies make me smile. The smell of my hound dogs comforts me. Deep lyrics soothe me. Puppy breath is a comfort to me.

Some days, I am lost. So lost, that getting out of bed is physically painful. So lost, that I'm late to work, because I have to cry in the mornings to get the hurt out. Some days, I am found. My son kisses me in the morning, and tells me, “Mommy! Wake up!” His hair a mess from sleeping on it wet. His skinny little arms wrapped around my neck, like an anchor keeping me grounded in reality. I'm found because my dogs wake me up with their deep whines, begging for their morning fresh air and kibble. For tummy rubs. For ear scratches.

Maybe I find my lost boy, maybe I accept that I'm a loner. I can't keep dwelling on the what-ifs and the maybes. I can't change me, I don't want to change me. I am unique. And, yeah, I'm f*****g crazy. But I'm the right kind of crazy, for the right kind of person, and maybe that person is me. And maybe I just can't care anymore.