Mush Brain

My thoughts are all over the place.


And because of this writing about my thoughts has become tough.

I have so much to say and yet i am struggling to find comfort in writing my feelings down.
My mom asked me the other day if I still kept an online journal (she knows about this space but luckily is not computer savvy enough to ever find it) and I told her "sort of, but i haven't written in it lately". She asked why and i told her because i don't know how to write anymore. She told me that didn't make any sense. Of course I know how to write. I've been doing it my whole life. And she retold the story, of which i have heard a million times, about the time my 6th grade English teacher told my mom my writings made her happy. That i wrote the sort of things that made her want to sit down in front of her fireplace to read my thoughts. My mom was so proud, and so surprised all at the same time. That girl, she said, that girl has not gone away.

But instead of agreeing with her I told her that my perspective on things are so different now that the tone of my writing has changed. That while that girl is still here, she is sooooo different, her writing has changed with her. And because of this i am struggling to find my voice amongst the change. I'm struggling to make sense of my thoughts now as the way i see things continue to evolve.
I hate admitting this. But this truth is all i have.
It's not that I don't have things going on to write about. Cause i do! So many things actually. Friend things. Job things. Sean things.Life things.New York City things. All of these things are complicated as hell and a pain to deal with but they are things I want to readily write about. I also have so many not so great things to write about. Anxiety. Depression.Grief. But i don't know how to put them all down anymore. I just don't.

Writing has always been about honesty for me. About an awareness of my surroundings and attempt to understand things. But me at 26 is so fucking different from me at 19 that i feel so conflicted about my surroundings and feelings about them. There is an edge to me now that i am afraid to embrace and talk about. The things i want and need to be honest about are so new that i feel anxious while experiencing them and even writing about them: boys, sex, desire, grief, the need to belong, the desire to be left alone. I'm not sure how to write it all down. And it's not to say i won't get back to the place where i was comfortable with doing this...but it's been harder than i thought it would be.

I've been attempting, for my own good, to be a part of the world.  It's weird. There was a time when I was okay with being a loner. Where I was okay with my routine. Because now i am terrified of this. There are nights when I replay my first phone conversation with Marie's mom, they day she died, and her telling me, through terrible sobs, that when they picked her up to move her back home (after she was laid off) they walked into a mess of an apartment. "it was so disgusting. I couldn't believe it".

Marie was against people visiting her house. When I think back to it, I've never actually been to her place. In high school. college. or post college. Ever! I mean i visited her dorm once or twice. And I knew where she lived cause we always drove by it. But she was so guarded about her living space. She use to tell me all the time that the one friend she had in North Carolina would ask to visit her place all the time. But she wouldn't let him. She was much more comfortable in environments other people created. And anytime she did mention her apartment it was always to complain that after two years of living there she still was unpacked.

I bring this up only because when I was in college, i described my anxiety as a house. As this place that was far away from people and interactions and disappointment. Except the house worked against me more than it did for me. I built anxiety to house my depression and my fears of being a disappointment to people. I was afraid of letting anyone in because of the mess they'd find. And when Marie's mom told me that her apartment was in disarray, it clicked that Marie was doing the same thing. Except her house was her enemy more so than her friend.

 And I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to shut people out from this person that I've becoming.

Cause I'm a mess. And i get sad. and irrational. But I also have incredibly good days. Where i am  happy. And silly. And adventurous. Cause while I miss the shit out of Marie, while I think of her every day, I am afraid of ending up like her. I'm afraid of not being able to see a future for myself through the pain and the anxiety. I'd rather feel crazy about life, boys and general anxiety than to not exist at all.

So I'm attempting to feel everything these days (not all at once of course). And some days it works for me. Sometimes i feel like my brain is a mush ball of emotions. But I'm embracing it because it keeps me going. Recently I've made some friends, gone to some bars, cried on a few shoulders, hugged cute boys, gone to church (a looong story), eaten a lot of cupcakes, joined a zumba class (a looooong story) and developed insanely crazy feelings for Sean.

We went to lunch today. He asked me to lunch! I was heading home after my shift and he was taking his break. He asked if i wanted to grab burgers across the street. He'd pay for me. So we went, and because I'm insecure around him, i figured he would buy our burgers and I'd walk him back to the store so he could eat his hamburger alone while i went home to eat mine. Because why on earthy would he want to hang out with me, despite how close we have gotten lately. But he wanted to sit down and talk because he didn't want to go back to the store. So we ate lunch, while I propped my legs across from his and took sips from his cup of ice tea (which he was willing to share).

 We talked about movies and relationships and sex. We discussed work, anger and childhood. When we were done I walked him back to the store, which is a few blocks away.  I skipped along to his long strides. He said it was weird getting older. I agreed. He said  it's weird how different he is from the boy he was. I agreed. And related. He asked about my insecurities. The ones I mentioned at lunch. About not feeling good enough some days. He said he couldn't believe I'd ever feel that way about myself. I said it was hard to explain. He said girls are difficult like that, no need to explain. He got silent for a moment. I stared up at his face. I like his face, especially when he doesn't shave. When he spoke, breaking the silence, it was quick and direct, that I almost didn't catch his words. He said, to the space in front of us, that if weren't tied to the hip (with his gf), he'd date me because he liked being around me. Silence. He doesn't feel that way about a lot of people. Silence. I blushed and told him he shouldn't say that to me because I'd take it to heart. He blushed and said 'i'm just telling you the truth. I'm sorry".

I wished him goodbye at the doorway. I lost my shit on the way home. I cried and laughed at the absurdity of my life. That moments like this: shocking and gentle are happening a lot lately. And that I am secretly grateful for them all.

Boy oh boy, things are weird and new around here. And if you bear with me, as i try to break this writing block  i promise I'll work on being more honest about these experiences here. Cause I'm still that girl with the dumb musings but my perspective just happens to be a little different these days. I am focusing on my external life first before my internal one. And I'm not sure if am doing anything right these days. I feel clumsy and curious about everything around me. But i must admit it feels nice experiencing all of these things no matter how confusing and difficult it is for me to put them down on 'paper'.

~Beckett.