I’m someone who gets easily overwhelmed.
And, lately, I’ve really been feeling it.
And by “lately,”
I really mean since the onset of the pandemic
— so for about a year and ten months —
and by “really feeling it”
I mean ALL OF IT;
carrying the weight of all things and their thingy-thing counterparts,
feelin’ all the feels,
crying all the cries,
sighing all the sighs,
and running the gamut of moods and emotions like I’m freakin’ Usain Bolt while
praying that my sanity and serenity are to be found at the finish line.
Engulfed in silent gratitude in one moment, and outwardly vocalizing my
discontentedness in the next.
Feeling like “I’ve got this” and feeling like I sure as hell don’t all in the same 20 minute span, on a loop, for days on end.
Thinking that (and undoubtedly looking like) a trip to the looney bin instead of McDonald’s or the wine aisle of a grocery store would do me some good.
I’m someone who gets easily frazzled,
thrown off kilter,
and as a less than pleasant side dish to the witchy plate I often serve up when I’m
I get super emotional too.
I’m not a gem, as you can plainly see.
I’m not a diamond in the rough. I’m just rough, minus the diamond, and all around.
Flawed to my “but I promise you I’m always trying” core.
And I should resolute to be a little less imperfect.
To improve upon my innate and self-developed shoddiness.
But instead, I’m not.
I’m just not.
Not this year. Not this girl.
You see, the only resolution I’m making for 2022
is to accept myself.
And even more when others don’t.
I don’t have to be perfect.
And neither do you.
It’s clear as day that the world ain’t, so why not cut ourselves some slack and remember that, in today’s day, our mere willingness to show up is an impressive glow up.
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