Apr. 3rd, 2006

It's late, but I can't sleep. I stayed up waaayyy too late last night with [livejournal.com profile] emilia_romagna and [livejournal.com profile] barelyproper watching costume dramas and eating popcorn. Moreover, I had four cups of tea at Hare House for the lovely Ms. [livejournal.com profile] moondanceminx's unbirthday party. While I don't think that any of the brands that were put out were heavily caffeinated - I only feel a little tired. So, eight hours of sleep (5 am - 1pm) + daylight savings time + caffeine = A very awake and very batty maiden. I am almost tempted to just stay up all night to fix my sleep schedule.

Almost.

The last few weeks have been most rewarding, from the beautiful Winter(spring?) Wonderland that was Calaveras Celtic Faire, to a lovely weekend of hanging out with Hazel, to the sheer joy of non-stop hanging out with friends this weekend. A couple of good girl friends from the co-op came into town, and we went out to dinner. The visit was wayy to short, but I also wanted to put in an appearance at [livejournal.com profile] moondanceminx's party.

Which, if you skip a few of the rails along my train of thought, leads to me to self-assessment time. I'm doing it early this year, as I doubt I'll get a chance before my birthday comes and goes.

Things can be a mixed blessing, and this last year has been one of the craziest mixed blessings. On the one hand - I lost Matt, some sanity, and have never been so uncertain about where I want to be in the world, let alone where I stand. On the other hand, the whole experience of grief and mourning has caused me to take a good hard look at who I am as a singular person.

Let's pause here and interject with some side stuff that will help me explain the bigger picture.

I have always been the weird kid. I was (and can be) a crybaby. I have almost always been overweight, and was teased and picked on badly enough in fifth and sixth grade that I changed schools to get away from the emotional bullying. I had one golden year in 7th grade, and then my family moved up to Northern California, where I, again, became the weird kid for eighth and part of ninth grade, until I discovered Drama and Chorus. I had a small handful of good friends throughout my school years, but I never had that huge group of friends. You know, that circle of five or six people that hang out together all the time and go on adventures and stuff...

This is not to say that I wanted to be popular. I did, however, want to belong. There were very few places I felt like I completely belonged. I didn't even feel completely accepted in my Drama and Chorus groups.

I never opened up to people. I'm still not very good at it sometimes.

I never was really able to find my self-worth. It was always contingent on something - lose a little weight, get a leading role as a romantic lead, find a boyfriend, something, anything. I'm sure most of you know how well that works, which is to say, it doesn't. I was always looking for approval from someone else, never from myself... Not even after I met, fell in love with, and lived with Matt did I ever fully love myself. (Well, that's not entirely true. Matt was instrumental in helping me battle more than a few of my demons, but those are stories for another day.)

After Matt died, and all those people came to his funeral, I thought that, were I to die the next day, not many people would show up to mine. I thought I didn't have many friends of my own. Yeah, I was that bad...

The last year has been a clue-by-four to the head. I am loved. I am worthy. I am - ack! - popular. (I said the P-word.... EEEK!) Many of the connections I have were made through Matt, but they are MY connections. I mean, I really hadn't realized how long ago I stopped being thought of as "Matt's girlfriend" to many of you who met me through Matt... I have this enormous, wonderful chosen family of amazing people who have chosen to make me a part of THEIR chosen family...

Words are truly a poor medium to express what I really feel about all of this - a better medium might be paint or an instrumental piece of music. There just aren't any words to describe this.

I can't say I'm glad that Matt died. These are all things I was beginning to realize prior to the accident. However, losing Matt has forced me out of the hidey-hole I was in prior to his death, which, in turn, has forced me to realized how large of a support structure I have. (Which, in turn, forced me to talk to my friends who have subsequently forced me to look at myself and see that I am a worthwhile human being.)

I am still afraid of falling (literally). I am still a bit of a control-freak. I can still be a flake. I can definitely still be a weenie when it comes to physical pain and bugs flying at my head. Yet I've been given the most amazing gift of all - my self-worth. I am a much bigger person than I was two years ago. I am no longer afraid to ask for help when I need it. I do not fear crisis because I have this amazing group of people to run to when life gets crazy. I do not fear boredom because there is always someone around with a crazy plan for creating amusement... (Oh, if only there were enough popsicle sticks - collectively we could take over the world.) I am not alone. I am not out of the loop. I am worthy. I belong.

Thank you.


There's a lot more to say, but I'm trying to say it to each of you individually as I find words for what I mean.

I think I may need to learn a few more languages before I am able to say it all... ;)

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