A long time coming.

This post has been a long time coming, but each time I've attempted it, I've stopped halfway through.

I'm going to try not to do that this time, because the truth is, 

this ol' blog is like a contract I have with myself.

If I write it on the blog, it means I 

a) have to deal with it 

and b) have to follow through with whatever it is I'm saying I'm going to do 

(which may or may not be why I have yet to blog about 

my intent to back off of the girl scout cookies).

The biggest problem with writing this post is that I truly have no idea where to start. So I'm just going to start typing and I hope it ends up somewhere that makes sense, but even if it doesn't, 

at least I wrote it.

So much has happened in the last two years.

There have been some great things that have happened.

I lived in Chicago, came to college, learned a ton about myself, went to my cousins wedding in New Orleans, got to a great place in my relationship with Trevor, and met so many new people.

I took great things from the past two years.

They've also been the most exhausting two years of my life.

I went through heartbreak that seriously depleted my self esteem, and stressful money worries, 

and painful family problems that I never thought I'd have to face.

Despite all of that, I was able (at most points) to keep a level of optimism.

By the end of 2010,  I set my sights on 2011 and I was sure that the new year would bring all of the answers, and by the stroke of midnight, everything would be solved.

That didn't happen.

My disappointment and sadness feels so overwhelming at this point.

It's become so difficult to hope and see the good (even though I know there is so much to see)

because I don't want to be disappointed anymore.

So I've stopped hoping. Isn't that terrible? And the worst part is, it's so unlike me.

I know this isn't who I am, yet I see myself act like this everyday.

I used to have spunk, and laughter, and confidence, 

and now I feel awkward and shy, and constantly self conscious because 

my life feels like a heaping ball of mess that I don't know how to clean up.

The thing is, I'm used to being able to channel all of this emotional energy towards something.

I've grown up with acting as my outlet, and now that I don't have that on a daily basis,

I feel like I'm going to climb up a wall because I don't know how to get anything out.

It's terribly difficult finding people to talk to about it because it always feels like I'm being dramatic, or like I sound crazy, not to mention it's hard to find people around me that can relate.

I have a really difficult time these days hearing people complain about petty things, and unfortunately, it's distanced me from a few of my friends.

When I do talk about feeling this way, it's often with Trevor or my mom.

With my mom, I try to hold it together a little bit more because

I don't want her to worry any more than she already does.

With Trevor, I try to hold it together because I don't want him to be overwhelmed by my problems,  but I fail miserably because he's the only person I ever talk to about it. 

So when I start crying, I'm sure he's thinking "HOW in the world can you have any tears left in your eyeballs?", but I'M thinking "I feel like I could cry for the next 24 hours straight."

So you can see how this creates a lot of tension and stress to my relationships. Which adds guilt. Which adds to the depression. It's a cycle. And it will keep going as long as I let it.

Last night, Trevor encouraged me for the 87,000th time to talk to a counselor.

I went to one briefly last year but I really didn't like her so I didn't continue with it.

But it's gotten to the point where I know things have to change, because in the words of Miranda Lambert "life ain't hard but it's too long to live it like some country song."

I know I can't solve all of the problems that are out of my control, 

and I have to find a way to live with them in a healthy way. 

So I finally made an appointment with a therapist. And I already feel relieved.

During this period of time, I seriously considered transferring schools. I won't go into where and what just yet, and it's not that the idea doesn't continue to be desirable to me, but I don't want to embark upon a new journey as the person that I am right now. The problems that I'm having will follow me, whether I'm in Cincinnati or Timbuktu. I really want to learn to bloom where I'm planted, and to be happy in any circumstance, because if there is one thing I've learned, it's that you can't always control your surroundings, and there is not always a quick solution for things, 

despite my yearning for instant gratification. 

Case in point: When I was in 1st grade, we had to make our own science experiment and bring it in to present to the class. I don't remember what mine was, but I know I was working on it at home for weeks, but it wasn't quite ready. Each day, we'd come in to class and whoever was ready to go would bring in their project to show the class. One day I got SO excited watching everyone else's presentations that I just couldn't wait to do mine. So I improvised. I raised my hand to go, and grabbed a pencil and a piece of paper and showed people how to erase pencil marks with just the warmth of your index finger. WHAT THE HECK YALL. But that's the epitome of me. I want action, and fix its, and overnight results, but this is one of those things that I have to be patient with. 

Even if it frikin kills me.

I know that the girl that I love and am proud of is still in me,

and I can't wait for the day that I find her again.