These posts. These darn pesky posts. The ones I love to write but hate to publish. The posts that make me so unbelievably grateful to have a place like this that allows me to pour my heart out on the daily if I so choose to. But the same posts that make me wish so badly that I didn't lead this alternate online version of life because, well, it usually requires me to pour my heart out.
I'm the one making the rules around here. I'm the Beyonce of my blog, as my besty Whitney tells me. I'm not obligated to post a single word on here about anything going on in my personal life if I don't want to. Yet I somehow feel like I owe this place of mine the full story. The good and the bad. The happiest posts filled with all things completely random and non-serious, but also the posts that speak complete and utter realness. Because one day when I look back on everything I've written in these pages, I'm going to want the full story. I'm not going to want to read about all the Miller Lite's I drank or the bulldog puppies I wanted. Well, that's a lie, I'm totally going to want to read about that, but I'd also wonder what the heck was going on inside my head between all of that bullshit. What was I really thinking? What was actually happening in my life?
And right now? Oh right now my life is just hanging out in the front car of a roller coaster taking one hell of a ride. *Caution this is about to get serious*
At first there was was the initial jolt out of the starting line. The excitement and the thrill swept me off my feet faster than ever and I was 100% prepared to ride that feeling for a very, very long time. There was no denying how happy I was in the very beginning of it all.
But then a couple months later I slowly realized I was in the middle of climbing up that scarily steep first hill. I was all things uncertain and unsure, scared to shit shaking in my seat hoping to all hell that the safety bar that had so snugly secured me for the last couple months wasn't going to give out at any moment. But I was also looking up ahead at the top of that hill longer than I probably should have and I knew the drop was inevitably on its way. There really was no denying the outcome that laid in front me, even when I was trying so desperately to hold on and savor the happy feeling for as long as possible. I truly and honestly didn't want to reach the point of no return. The one where all hell breaks loose right at the very top.
But it did. The moment when I knew I had to do what I had to do came, and it was then that I realized I wasn't going to be able to turn around and run straight back to the starting line I had cherished so much.
Because when you live the way I live, you tend to see things in black and white and black and white only. If you love something, love the shit out of it. If you want something, go after it with every single fiber of your being. If you need to remove something from your life, don't hesitate, just do it. Life is fucking short; not everything needs to be so difficult and drawn out. At the end of the day, you just have to listen to that thing inside of your chest that beats for you and only you and follow it wherever it urges you to go.
And my heart told me I needed to end my ride up that hill. Because the coaster and my car no longer aligned well enough to continue on the path we were headed. And it's as simple and as heartbreaking as that. Because falling down the hill after you reach the top sucks. It sucks a whole hell of lot. You'd think being the one to break the bond between track and wheels would be easier when you're the one orchestrating it, but it's so unbelievably not. And the fact that my face currently looks like a five year old's in the middle of a chicken pox fit would prove that theory. Stress acne is no joke, people. No joke.
But the thing about completing that first initial drop is that you're usually not yet finished with your ride. There are quite a few corkscrews and upside down loop-dee-loops left to get through. There's the hurt because it meant something. But just because it meant something doesn't mean it's your forever. There's the confusion, there's the what the hell did I just do moment, there's the sadness, there's the change of your daily routine, there's the overwhelming heaviness of it all.
But then there's also the point when the chaos finally subsides. When your car slows down and it allows all of the confusion and uncertainty to halt along with it. You gain your grounding, you get yourself back, your head settles into your comfy place, and you start to, once again, feel alive. So insanely alive. Because the great thing about a roller coaster ride is that it will eventually always return right back to the very place it all began. Right back to home base…where maybe, just maybe, that heartbeat of yours never truly left at all.