Hi again.

I don't really know how to reintroduce myself after spending time away. It always feels like I should have more to say, or like I should’ve done something since the last time we talked, but my mind usually draws blank, as it takes me an extra minute to think, to remember the things that I have done, or catch up to the group conversation.  It always feels a little bit awkward to me, as I figure out how to navigate the space between us, both physical and metaphorical. 

But I find myself here. Bumping into you again. 

Conversing through a virtual screen filled with words originating from fragmented thoughts, beliefs and narratives that once bounced around in my head.  

I have been busy, in a sense. I've been doing a lot of putting myself “out there”. A lot of hosting people, and going to therapy, and attempting to cook, engaging in difficult conversations, and lifting weights above my head. It's been around 8 months since I’ve talked with you, that is. posted to this silly little blog,. A world of comfort provided by a 23 dollar a month subscription. And now that I think about it, I think I find more comfort in you, and the fact that you are here enjoying it with me.  

I guess this is the least painful and awkward way for me to say “Hi again” after spending some time away.

If you were to watch me write, you’d notice the ramen stained oversized University of Wisconsin T-shirt hanging from my shoulders, and my makeup less face emphasizes the inevitable dark rings that fill the space between my cheeks and eyes. You’d notice the half empty iced white raspberry mocha, and a mug of Ben and Jerry’s next to me, and I’d hope to God you wouldn't notice how it’s 10:30 AM.

 But like most conversations go, you’d probably be kind about my state of existence and ask “How are you?”. And more often than not I would quickly say “Im good”, and scurry to ditch the day old coffee and finish that last scoop of Rocky Road.

But this time I would think about it a little bit longer before answering.

I’d look out our window to see the ducks that fill the cute little pond across the road, and how they play in the rain together, and think about how I always search for them after work as I round the corner to our baby blue townhome nestled on the corner Woodduck Dr. 

I’d take a second to think about how last Sunday I spent hours listening to some of the dearest people in my life fill my home with childlike giggles and much needed prayer requests. I would notice that marigolds and baby's breath fill the once empty vases upon my windowsill. And how flames of scented candles dance, in the darkest corners of the room. How polaroids of memorable nights occupy the vacant spaces of countertops and coffee tables. Or the hugs and warm welcomes of athletes in noisy gyms fill me with unspeakable pride and inspire me in ways I had never expected. 

And although there's more rain dancing on the water of the pond, skies of gray nothingness anticipating Minnesota winters hang over my head, and the chilly nights coat the fallen leaves with morning dew, I have found a warmth within me that had previously gone missing. 

And although there has been death I had never anticipated,  buds of life begin to sprout through the fallen and dead leaves of chapters prior. 

Hope seems to seep through the grief of life as I knew it. Love through laughter and stillness, seem to dismantle the performative self expectations I’ve ingrained into my way of being. Compulsive thoughts and fixations no longer unpack their bags, and make a home of my brain. The anxiety of time and never having enough of it doesn’t seem to contract the muscles upholding my 5’9” frame. And tears of frustration occur on occasion, but lately my eyes sting more from all the people and moments I have grown to cherish so dearly.   

There’s still a lot going around me and near me, much of it scary and most of it confusing, but “I’m good”.

Maybe it’s all the “putting myself out there’s”, all the late night required group therapy sessions, or maybe it's all the over cooked noodles, maybe it's the failed overhead press, and the new job. Or it's all the people who have prayed for you, when you don't know that they are. And the people who cheer you on from a distance. Maybe it's the firm boundaries and a new found use of assertiveness. The conserving of energy for people who are truly deserving of me. Maybe its the accepting of where you are, embracing the can & can’t  the should and shouldn’t, the breaks between the chaos, the ability to rest. 

 I don’t know alot of things, and a lot of questions I might struggle to answer, but 

What I do know is how badly I have missed you in the whole process of becoming. 

So as I savor the last scoop of Rocky Road, and as my recycling piles up with another aged coffee cup, I am thinking about how I am so glad we are here together, conversing once again. 

A smile lifts the corners of my lips as I say “I'm good”, and ask 

 “How are you?”