Open, I am…

One of my socks is stretched out. And I ran out of my favorite deodorant. And the DVD of Argo I bought refuses to be recognized by the player. And the top sheet hasn’t been in any way attached to my bed in at least a week.

I’m living a stretched-out-sock life, somewhere in between not wanting to make a budget, telling myself that I’m broke, and still splurging on fried chicken. I’m just hanging out on the fence between multiple things I couldn’t give names to.

I miss trees and quiet mornings and happy-looking dogs. I miss looking around and not seeing anyone. I miss broccoli pasta and farm animal waffles.

I mostly doubt that I’ll ever be a liv-er-in-the-moment-er. Wherever I am, I want to be somewhere else, feeling something else. And making a resolution just feels like another piece of crap that I don’t need.

“So I am practicing to be.

Open.

Broken hearted then broken open.

Open to who you are and who you are becoming.

Open to who I am and who I am becoming.”

Those are words that I can feel right now. Those are words my mother gave me, words that showed me something had changed.

And, in the end, a sock is still a sock.

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3 thoughts on “Open, I am…

  1. Once a sock has been stretched into a new shape, it just can’t go back to its older, smaller, more constricted self. Nor can you. I love the you you have become and I love the you that you that you are becoming. And I know that I will love the you that you will become. So here’s to(clink!) and here’s to living in every today that we are given (clink, clink!)

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