When my parents finally cornered me into coming home for the holidays, I thought that I would literally just chill until I was tired of doing nothing. I was a little mad because I didn’t want to come home so soon but then also a little relived because I know home is the one place I don’t worry. I’m really glad I came though. Here is why;
This past year has been difficult which is ironic because it started out amazing. Along the way, I think a switch flipped or something. Everything went to hell. Life begins at 21 and if the kind of year I have had is anything to go by, I don’t think I’ll like my life a whole lot.
The thing that I will definitely regret most this year was the fact that somewhere along the way, I lost touch with this part of me. The one that writes. I had totally lost it. It’s like I woke up one day and I couldn’t do it anymore. I dumped Misfitly Wild. I got rid of my posts and then I just stopped. I think I shut down everything Misfitly. I stopped using Misfitly’s Instagram page, Facebook page and this WordPress account.
Occasionally, I would try to pen down the rumblings of my mind but I’d stop midway my opening line. Not good enough is the thought that always came to mind. Then I started to believe it. That maybe I just wasn’t good enough for this. So eventually, I totally stopped and blocked it. That sucked because now I didn’t have an outlet for everything I held inside. Not writing was like me running every red light I came across oblivious of the danger I posed to myself and others.
I think the one person that had to sort of pay the most for me loosing that part of myself was the boy that I fell in love with this year. (My year wasn’t that bad after all) The loss of me I guess meant that I had bottled up too much and sometimes it drove me crazy. He had to sit through 500 different mood swings everyday. I would literally just wake up in the morning mad as hell for no particular reason or I would get mad because I felt like he didn’t correctly make the bed or just something dumb.
Normally, when I would feel strained, I would just write down something and then keep it or toss it. Then I’d be fine. I’m not much of a talker, I don’t often just sit and tell people what’s bothering me and a lot of things bother me. So keeping it all in was not healthy. I mean as bad as this year was, I had some interesting moments that would have made bomb ass articles.
It killed me that I was unable to tell those stories. Like that one time we almost had a baby and we couldn’t figure out how to do the test correctly. We finally did it and argued about the result so we sent it to some of our friends for confirmation before we decided to just leave it up to my uterus. That was a tough day. Especially considering the fact that money had decided to give us a break. No babies coming through here it said after weeks of torture.
Or another time when my friends and I went out and what was supposed to be just catching up turned into running from the police, police arrests, inflamed cab prices and a really huge fight outside a place called Jimmy’s. Or another time a crazy lady knocked on my door at 10pm looking for a friend of mine because she was mad about a mattress. This was epic because she was making so much noise, one of my neighbours slapped her so hard, we had to give her a moment of silence. Real men don’t violently lay hands on women though.
The simple fact that I couldn’t write things like these to make me feel better when I was having a bad day made me one of those grouchy and angry cat ladies. What does grouchy mean? I feel like it’s one of those words that you just write down because you think you know the meaning but if asked the meaning, you realize that you don’t really know the meaning!
Being home for the past maybe week has made me get back together with my girl. Primarily because our house help had to leave and so that means that my mom made me her default help. This is one of those rare times, I will not complain — that much. I don’t like it but I feel like it makes me one of those suburban moms that stay at home, drink wine at 2pm and have a blog to pass time.
I feel like that’s a weirdish reason to go back to something you love but it works for me so I’ll take it. So today, after doing my chores like a good girl, I started my make up session with myself. I loved it!
I had really missed this.
Own your Misfit