You know that moment where you're floundering around in a tide of musky gray, trying to figure out the bearings of who you are without the convenient guidepost you've covered in moss and forgotten how much you needed?
I sound almost horrifically emo above but this is something I've grown accustomed to the further I venture into writerdom. Sometimes people are emo. And sometimes those people blog their emo thoughts. Imaginary chill pill, anyone?
Who am I? What is this "be yourself" business. How do I figure out how to be myself?
Questions echo, bouncing around a room that ceases to exist. I am codependent. Not on a man-beast or sparkly
And with a delicate sadness for those who do not share that kind of love and support, I'm grateful for it. I may not know who I am or would be without my family but maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe there are too many variables to keep track of, too many circumstances that reflect who you are and who you become. Maybe we just need to want to know ourselves and love ourselves and try to understand that we're constantly changing, even if it never feels like it (especially on birthdays).
Life is good.
p.s. I booked a road test for my novice licence which, in case you don't live in BC, means I can drive a car on my own or with one other passenger plus as many family members as will legally fit in the car. And that is terrifyingly terrific. May 17th. 8:30am.