OK

OK

My last day of therapy was two weeks ago. When I took the last trip on the elevator down from the tenth floor and walked out the door it was like...

when I got on the bus to go to my first real city job interview when I moved from Buffalo (the second time)

it was like when I moved into our first apartment and put together my bed frame (after 4 months of living out of my suitcase)

it was like when I took my last bin of Angry Orchard bottles to the recycling (and haven't had a single drink at home for 3 months and counting) 

Indecision is something that is inseparable from anxiety. Nothing feels like it's on solid ground. But after 4 solid years of laying foundation, I finally feel OK.

OK.

OK is the fucking best.

OK is being able to talk myself down of the ledge. OK is knowing that insomnia or a comment from a coworker or only eating Doritos for dinner does not negate my value as a human being.

OK allows the space for other shit. Important shit.

Like relaxation. Like self reflection without self flagellation. Like allowing myself to be hopeful. Like cutting myself a fucking break.

I'm OK.

And that's fucking spectacular.

 

maybe

maybe