confession: last night as i walked to my car at the end of the evening in my little lacy slip dress, i remembered that my former diva self often utilized the pre-emptively offensive strategy of hyper-hotness as a defense mechanism. (imagine an attitude and outfit that struts “don’t even think about it, darlin’, cuz i’m waaayyyy out of your league.”) my current diva self prefers soft lace and elegance.
confession: i had the thought a few days ago, “i love not being friends with him.” i loved that thought, that feeling, that permission granted to revel in the wise choice of ending that friendship.
confession: i need more practice asking for help, but when i practice silently in my head, the requests seem unnecessary, they seem like things i could or should do for myself, but i know i won’t or can’t do these things, and i don’t ask, and i don’t receive, and that’s stupid, because i want these things and there are people who would want to help me, if only i would ask.
confession: my perfect life would look exactly like the life i’m living minus the guilt and plus more asking in order to receive more support, joy, and kindness.
confession: someone texted me out of the blue a few weeks ago. we’ve had a few text exchanges since. this person claims to miss our interactions. i didn’t care enough about this person to delete this contact from my phone when we ended. i felt neutrally about this one then, and i feel neutrally about this one now.
confession: after a certain length of time has passed after a relationship has ended, have you ever wondered to yourself, “why would i ever have been attracted to that one?” i’ve asked myself that question many times for many exes. i asked it again last night. every time i’ve asked myself that question, i’ve felt grateful that i would never choose that one again.
confession: last year was the first year in a decade that i didn’t buy new boots for my birthday. my half-birthday is in three weeks. i ordered new boots. half-birthdays are freebie birthday do-overs, if you want them, if you need them, they are available. i love do-overs.
confession: all morning i tried remembering the lines of a poem that doesn’t exist because i haven’t written it yet.
confession: on sunday at brunch a woman i don’t know, a woman who didn’t introduce herself to me, therefore i don’t know her name, asked me, “what’s your story?” i’m consistently caught off-guard and unprepared for that question. after fumbling though an unsatisfactory answer, i spent the next couple days ruminating how i would have liked to have answered that question. if i didn’t know you and today you asked me, “what’s your story?” i’d answer, “i am a free agent of infinite possibilities. i am love-in-action. i’m here to make life easier, sweeter, more joyful, and more love-filled for as many people as possible.” then i’d ask, “who are you?”