I’m a firm believer in owning your shit.
No, I don’t mean material things. I’m talking about your shit, your illnesses (mental and physical), behavior (good or bad), your words, your personality…every little thing that makes you the wonderfully complex person that you are.
I mean, let’s face the facts, you guys. We’re all hot fucking messes, just in different ways.
We’re constantly changing without even consciously knowing it.
I bought a different flavor of vape juice, even though change is scary. I’ve recently decided that one cup of coffee in the morning is sufficient to semi wake my ass up because more than that makes my stomach hurt, after more than 20 years of being its bitch.
I’m really sorry, Stewie.
Doritos instead of cereal isn’t the best breakfast choice, but that’s what I’m having at the moment. (Munch crunch.)
Those are minuscule examples of what I’m trying to explain here.
I’m having a really obnoxious fibro flare right now, brought on by stress, anxiety, weather changes and being busy for too many days in a row. (Shocking, right?)
I’m depressed and trying to fend off anxiety attacks my every waking hour.
I’m just a robot, going through the motions because I have no choice but to carry on.
I’m really fucking tired and feel like I’m stuck in quicksand. I need a vacation.