You guys, this week has been devastating on all fronts. When Friday rolled around, it was like I was standing at the finish line of a double marathon - if that's even a thing and it shouldn't be because why, why, why? I felt myself bent over with one hand on my knee and the other up in the air, and between gasping breaths, I was telling everyone, everything to just ... stop.
That sounds dramatic.
I wish I was joking.
(A marathon is kind of on my bucket list, but it's after eating my way through Italy again. So. Priorities.)
No one I know had an awesome week. My mom? Nan? She has something called a Dammit Doll. She said that she got so frustrated this week that she thought maybe the stuffing from her doll would come out because she beat it on her desk so many times. [Sidenote: You preach on, you Dammit Doll Makers. Ingenious idea.] Bestie Betsy was ready to throw in the towel by like ... Tuesday, or something. And BFF Amber had out her mom finger by sixth period on MONDAY.
Thursday night? When I could absolutely take no more? I started scribbling notes in my prayer journal. It was ten o'clock. I was tired - exhausted, really, like in my boooones - and what do girls do when they are tired and upset? They cry, lovies. Bestie Betsy was texting me about her troubles and I was texting her back, and I didn't even tell her that I was in Defcon 11 Mode because she would've called, and you know what? I wouldn't have even known where to start.
So I just kept scribbling.
On my sixth page, a mantra appeared. I realized that I had been writing the same three words in paragraph after paragraph.
When a week, or months, or however long you've spent in your Deep, Deep, Dark Place leaves you feeling raw, or neglected, or shamed, or inferior, or lost, or whatever ... your center - who you really are - kind of gets lost to the dreary. Or at least mine did. I got off track on Tuesday. And after the derailment on Tuesday? Nothing went quite right.
By Thursday night, I'd had enough. I knew I needed to change my attitude around or Friday would suck, too. I decided to get back to the person I want to be.
Listen to that again.
I decided to get back to the person I want to be.
Not the person that I am.
I don't think I am quite there yet - to where I want to be. But I can keep trying. I can keep trying to be the girl I envision myself to be. And that girl? She gives herself grace. She practices gratitude. And she gives.
Once I came back to the goal of the girl I want to be, there was a power shift. Things were no longer happening TO me, but I was DOING things. Does that make sense? Like all week long, I was already down for the count and hadn't even had a chance to come out swinging.
On Wednesday morning? Or Tuesday? I'm not sure. My mom said to me, "Baby girl, YOU are stunning." And she said it with such conviction, you guys. With such deep from the heart conviction, that I kind of believed her, too. I started looking at My Tribe, and you know what? They're stunning, too. So I started telling them all.
And the more I told them, the more I started to feel better.
I took deeper breaths, and I tried to slow down a little. Part of my problem this week? Too much to do, and I felt a rising sense of hysteria - how is a girl supposed to get it all done and still manage to make sure her hair is curled and her eyebrows get waxed and her toddler isn't eating his shoelaces or sticking his toothbrush in the toilet (again)? She isn't, you guys. She just isn't.
So this grace ~ gratitude ~ giving thaaaaang? I think it's my new mantra. And I've never really been a girl that believes in personal mantras. Not until I was on my knees looking for one.
You can borrow it if you want.
I love you like the feelings I ate this week,
. About Moi .
I love, love, love flannel sheets and I am really passionate about lists on post it notes and most of the time I'm sad that no one else is as excited as I am about Diet Mountain Dew. I also adore run-on sentences. And if you need an awesome virtual assistant, who is full of personality and really good jokes? Email me. I'm your girl.
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He saw her before he saw
anything else in the room.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
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