I am okay. Is that okay?
Yes. It’s okay that I am okay.
And it is more than okay if you are not okay.
I am okay because I’m an introvert, a homebody, a busybody, someone who long ago figured out how to workout at home, a lover of outdoors and Spring, a gardener, a cook who had lost my zest for cooking due to the work week hustle, a sister with amazing siblings who envelop me in love from afar always, a daughter with healthy and sweet parents. I have the most amazing girlfriends who are more present with me and for me than perhaps ever before. I am okay because I still have some income producing work, although massively decreased. I am okay because Tate and I have arrived at a steady, healthy, functional place with sharing space allthetime. I am okay because I have the time and space right now, in my life and in my brain, to sleep when I need, waking up naturally; an incredible gift to someone who suffered crippling insomnia for almost a decade and still struggles with quality sleep. I am okay because even though this years income is going to drastically different than last years, I am not financially stressed. I am okay because over the last month I’ve “finally” had the time to give an old injury some serious attention and have made great strides in healing. I am okay because I’m reading more then ever and it feels healthy and cozy and satisfying.
I am okay because my disposition actually kinda thrives in an environment that requires ingenuity, alone time, detachment from schedule. This is simply an observation. This is simply the cloth I am cut from.
The fear, uncertainty, anger, grief, and anxiety still sits in my gut many mornings or sucker punches me right in the heart almost daily.
When this happens, I talk to myself as I would a toddler who just skinned their knee, purring “you’re okay, you’re okay” in my most reassuring inner voice.
It’s important to me that the pronoun in that purr is you/I, not it.
Because it’s really not fucking okay right now.
But even then, I’m okay.