My Life is Weird

My life is weird.

Okay, life is just weird period. I know that. But my life feels weirder than usual right now.

It’s been a month to the day that I moved out of my house and I’m sitting here trying to wrap my head around moving again next week. I was just starting to feel a bit settled and I feel a little like I’m ripping a newly laid blanket of some sense of comfort and familiarity right from under myself.

Emotions aside, the logistics alone exhaust me. Not just getting there, but figuring out how I’m going to manage this on my own – all rested on my entrepreneurial shoulders. And yet, I have this weird confidence that it will work out – that I will MAKE it work.

I’ve said it before, but apparently doing hard things really is my thing. I haven’t stopped doing hard things, and I must say I’m getting more comfortable with just going for it. The fact that things are hard, or the thought of “This is, That’s, or It’s Hard” is nothing more than an observation now. It’s not an indicator that it can’t be done, or that I won’t keep doing it. I hear it now and think yep, it is, carry on”.  

It’s been a matter of days from knowing I need to find a place to booking a date to move next week. Figuring it all out has been hard. It is hard. But here I am figuring it out, even when it feels like I can’t. Because it might feel like I can’t, but I know I will. And the will is all those cant’s are ever talking about anyway.

If the whole weirdness of yet another new home and community wasn’t enough weird, the place I’m moving to doesn’t even have a kitchen! And somehow this is me moving forward. The thought alone makes me laugh to myself. Like, I’m actually sitting here on my bed, in the middle of the night, laughing to myself. On what planet should this actually be an indicator that I’m moving forward?  How is this not a million steps back? How weird is my life right now that this is good, that this is progress? That, as weird as it is, this actually makes me happy! How quickly things can change.

It still fascinates me how I can feel like such a disastrous mess of a human being at the same time as feeling stronger and more confident in my own tenacity and grit than ever. I’m going to figure this out. I am figuring it out.


It’s a funny thing about my new home to be. It’s weird – one room (besides the bathroom) and no kitchen. That’s fucking weird. But here’s the thing, I’ve realized why it makes me grin like a weirdo. It’s unique. It’s a challenge. It excites me. It’s an opportunity to use my creativity. An opportunity to rise to the challenge and make it work – or (I’m hoping) – make it awesome.

Weird intrigues me. I almost feel like it might be where I rise the most – where I get the most from- where I belong. It gives space to not be ordinary; and when you have space to not be ordinary it leaves space for whatever you really are.

Daydreaming about the possibilities, of what it could be, feeds me. I’m using this weird opportunity to create something – something for the weirdo I am. Apparently I find breaking social conventions pretty exciting.. Okay, so maybe this isn’t news to me. 🙂

I actually love the fact that I can say “my new home doesn’t have a kitchen” without wallowing or feeling depressed, and instead feel excitement as I rise to the challenge with a sense of mischief. I think it speaks to all the work I’ve done; the strength I’ve gained, the perseverance I’ve proven, but more than all of that – how much I can now embrace who I really am. Even when I’m the weirdo who gets fired up over the lack of appliances.

Eyelid Armour

The sadness was right there. I could see it reflected back at me. Do you really care that much about me? Why does that hurt so much?

That makes me want to cry.. When am I going to let that go and let things make me cry – instead of this aching want for something I never allow to happen?

I use my eyes to hide. And I do it really well. I pull away – I pull inside. Away from you. Away from anyone. Away from everything I truly want. Connection. Comfort.

I want it – my mind tells me I want it too much. That I can’t want it that much and if I do I shouldn’t get it because it can’t be healthy, or right, or fair to others.

Fucking eye contact. It might be a huge key for me. It’s so hard to not look away. I’m not just being dramatic here – it’s really fucking hard for me.

There’s so much there. And I know it. I have so much in my eyes – it feels like a burden to let people see the intensity. The sadness. The pain. The anger. The hurt. The power.

Expressing myself through the written word is powerful – but it is controllable. Very controllable. My eyes have no such control. There are no barriers if I hold your gaze. My only option of control, of filters, of barriers, is to pull away. Hide behind my eyelids.

My eyes are what I’m missing. And they terrify me.

I can’t protect you from what you see. I can’t protect me from your response. I have no control when I give you my eyes – the only control being how long I give them to you. I let people glimpse this inner world. I let myself get moments of care and comfort and acknowledgement of what’s inside. But then I pull away.

I can’t have more even if I want it. It’s risky. It’s needy. It’s hurtful. It’s burdening those you look at. I don’t deserve to be seen like this. Not so raw. Not so direct. Not without barriers. Not without my filter. Not without protection.

I write authentically. I express the raw to be read on your terms. I choose when to read your comments on those words, on my inner world. I get to put up my own filters of what you say and what it means. I get to let it be something without it having to be something between us. And I can guarantee if you talk to me about the words you read in person, I won’t be looking at you.

It’s much harder to deny your sense of genuine care and connection when you’re looking into my eyes. When I can see it in your eyes.

Perhaps writing has been my way of trying desperately to fill this need without breaking the barrier of true vulnerability – true connection.

I’m so guarded. And I hate it. I’m not even sure others would see me that way – because I am very open in one sense, I’m authentic and I share a lot. But when it comes to taking that connection in, or expressing the emotion, even sitting with the good feelings – I am so guarded in letting them in or letting the emotions in me out. So destructively guarded.

That voice – you don’t deserve it. It’s not okay to hold that or own it. It’s not safe.

Love, belonging, connection – give it away like nothing, but don’t let it in.

It’s time to break these barriers and know what it truly feels like to be connected.

I know I need to do this. However difficult. However much pain may be waiting on the other side. I believe it’s the biggest thing that holds me back, inside and out.

So, if I just decide that I’m going to try to get my needs met – just say fuck whatever pain will come and fuck what it says about me – and fuck what I may feel or think as a result of actually letting someone in. If I say fuck the barriers and fuck what happens out in this place I’ve never allowed myself to go.

It’s time to stop hiding. I must will myself to stay there – completely vulnerable and unprotected in this vast field of corneas – and see what happens when I don’t go away.

Flying Blind

Nothing is familiar, comfortable, or effortless right now. Sometimes I wake up and I’m really not sure who’s life I’m in.

I feel so unsettled, overwhelmed. Then again, I am unsettled. So much is new and uncertain. Maybe it’s okay to feel unsettled and overwhelmed.

I’ve lost my house, my husband, my kitties, family, financial security. I live in a new place. I need GPS to get home. I’ve lost all of my routines. I don’t even know how to grocery shop anymore. And it’s not like my business life is old and familiar – I’m still finding my footing there. I feel like I don’t have my footing anywhere right now.

All at once. My life isn’t ‘my life’ anymore. And yet, it’s only my life. More my life than it has ever been.

I have a sense I’m on the right path – but I feel lost. Lost in the right direction?

Change is hard. New things are unsettling. I think craving the comfort of familiarity is normal – especially for someone who gets so caught in the comfort of habit that once I finish a TV series I usually just start it again. It’s safe to say I live most of my life right now outside of my comfort zone.

So many new ways of doing things to learn. So many things to figure out.

So free it’s destabilizing.

I guess it’s a good thing you don’t need to count on balance when you can fly.  

Something I’ve noticed is that by removing all realm of routine and normalcy in life, it creates an opportunity to really pay attention to what I want to do. Because nothing is a given, everything becomes an intentional, mindful decision. Everything from ‘what should I do with my life’ to ‘what brand of butter do I buy’. An opportunity to create habits based on what I truly want to be.

Exercising, eating healthy, being tidy, joining a boxing gym. So far I’ve found it’s not that hard to do. Without having to change an existing habit, the change in behaviour doesn’t feel like a struggle. It’s like I’m starting from scratch because so much of my life isn’t ‘normal’ -I’m not trying to change things, I’m just building new things from a blank slate. I guess it’s an upside to having your world turned ass up. I could do a lot with this if I try.. and I am trying.

It’s taking a constant stream of courage and strength, and an exhausting amount of effort.

And yet, I know – I can do hard things. Doing hard things is kind of my thing.