Maybe

Maybe...

it's ok to keep coming here, to this coffee shop.  It's carpeted and therefore a lot more quiet than others.  It's warm and cozy, there's a fireplace, I love the acoustic Sirius radio channel, and their soup would seem to be the perfect study food.  It really is my favorite, and I know I'm going to keep liking it here no matter what memories come up on occasion.

Maybe it's ok that I called in to work last night despite having used at least a month of PTO to stay in school this semester.  My whole body hurt, my stomach was upset, and I was so out-of-sorts that I drove over a curb where I thought I saw a driveway, bottoming out my car, and then got home to realize I hadn't been wearing a bra all day.

Seriously. (Would you want me arriving to take care of you in that state?)

Maybe it's ok that I've had a couple of binge days.  One day it was a whole box of Cheez-Its, and another it was an entire bag of salted caramel kettle corn.  I drove around aimlessly for nearly an hour, trying to avoid going home.  I work full-time, take 14 credits, lost a dear friend earlier this year, and now my grandpa is dying.  Both of them from variants of the same cruel disease.  I don't have the privilege of coming home to someone to talk with me, or just be near me.  If I get emotionally overwhelmed a couple days a week, I can let myself off the hook. (Thanks Robin.)

Maybe it's ok that I've gained 11 pounds since spring, and I only know that because I weighed myself for the first time in a month the other day.  I may be disappointed, but my clothes still fit and I still feel healthy.  And so, maybe it was ok that I deleted the spreadsheet of my weight and measurements for the last two years.  I don't want to worry about it anymore.  Getting thinner never got me the love I thought it would anyway.

Maybe it's ok that I've let my running habit go.  I've realized I was only trying to outrun my anxiety and my worry about the future anyway.  I head out about once a week, but usually for only three miles and with at least one walk break.  Yoga is giving me a lot more of what I need these days.

Maybe it's ok that I tear up lately if I see a woman wearing a wedding ring, or when I have the ensuing thought that maybe I don't really want to get remarried.  My night times are so hard for want of someone to share them with, but sometimes I wonder why would I keep wanting something that so few have something good to say about, which is proven to benefit men far more than women, and the desire for which causes me so much pain.  I do like the fact that no one messes up my bathroom but me (lame humor).

Maybe it's ok that I've slammed my textbook shut on several chapters about families, marriage, and aging.  Maybe it's ok that I cried during all ten videos on prenatal development - at work.  Maybe it's ok that I sometimes I'm able to convince myself I don't want to have a child, and maybe it's ok that I don't want to talk to God about it anymore.  But maybe it's also ok that when I see Alexis' car seat in my back seat for the week, I smile and realize how right that looks in my car.  Even if I'm the only parent my child has someday.

And so, maybe it's ok that I've decided I like my darkening hair, and that I don't really want to color it anymore.  Maybe it's ok that I've begun to wear my Breathe Romance perfume instead of continuing to save it for someone special.  Because maybe, I can finally say I really like who I am.  I don't want to be anyone else.

But maybe I still want to hang my kissing ball this year for Christmas.  Because it's pretty.  Because it was really fun this past summer to kiss on someone.  Maybe it's worth hanging again.