Shattered

When I was 16, my dear readers, I had the opportunity to go to Florida with my then best friend.  My family and I had moved to Colorado the year prior while my friend stayed in Missouri, and it was a great chance to spend a week with her and to see the ocean.

We stayed in this really cool hotel that was right on the beach.  It had a kitchen, so my friend and I made a lot of our own food.  (Her parents were off most of the time and let us basically be adults even though we were only 16.)  One of the meals we did had artichoke hearts in it, the kind that came in cool glass jar.  When we were done, I took the jar and rinsed it out.  

I then proceeded to spend the rest of the week filling it with sand and shells I found along the beach.

I'll be honest, the week wasn't perfect.  I was just beginning to show signs of what I now know as general anxiety disorder and I didn't have a grasp of how my blood sugar and lack of sleep worked.  So I was a total roller coaster, especially towards the end.

But the trip was still a lot of fun and I am so thankful I took it.

That little jar of sand and shells has sat consistently on my desk and windowsill, depending, for the past 8 years.  It's moved through three different apartments with me; I have always loved having it, both because of it's simplistic beauty (shells, white sand, a food jar) and for the friendship it represented.  

Even as we drifted, I kept the jar of shells.

And then this happened tonight.

After 8 years, the jar fell from my window as I closed my blinds and broke.

The cuts are all clean along the glass.  It broke in nearly three perfect pieces.

I'm not sad, actually.  For me, this is the universe helping me out.

My friend and I haven't talked in ages.  The last time we spoke, it was when she called a few months ago to tell me she is pregnant.  Before that, it was last summer when she came to visit for a few days.  It was uncomfortable - we have both grown so much, and while that's a good thing, we've grown apart.

I think I had been in denial of this, of the breaking of a friendship that I thought would last forever, until a month or two ago.  I cleaned out my keepsake drawers, organizing what I had, tossing what I could.  I mailed my friend a few pictures I found that I thought she might want.  

I came to terms, basically.

And this happened, and as I bagged up the shells before vacuuming the rest, I knew it was right.  The friendship is broken and gone, and I am okay.

I am okay.

A few years ago, and this would have been detrimental.  But where I am now, I'm okay.  I have a fiance who cares about me and who I care about, I have a few close friends who I talk with and spend time with, and I have my family.

I am okay.

Sometimes, it's okay for things to break.

~Meaghan

The Post Electric

So hi again, my dear sweet readers.

I had a total meltdown yesterday over basically nothing and I've been sad over the past few days, but today seems to be looking up.

For one, I actually feel like I understand what we're covering in my statistics class.  This is good.  I got a C on the first test; I think I can redeem myself on this next test.  I asked my professor what the best way to study for the test is and he confirmed what I was leaning towards: work the problems.  Work them over and over and over again until I can basically do them in my sleep.

So hopefully this will work and I'll pass this class higher than a C.

Still lost in maps use.  I have so much trouble measuring a straight line.  This is probably not good.  Granted, it makes my numbers off in the class, but what if this was real life?  I would be so lost in the middle of nowhere.

Who am I kidding?  I'm always lost in the middle of nowhere, even if that nowhere is my mind.

Wow, that was cryptic.  My bad.

My mom, after witnessing my meltdown, said I needed to do something about it.  As she told me yesterday, I should start writing down things about myself, journal about myself and who I am - what I like about myself, what I don't like about myself, etc.

 It seems so juvenile, doesn't it?  I'm nearly 24, and my mom still has to give me advice on exploring who I am because I don't spend enough time on myself, apparently.  And she said that if I don't somehow pull myself out of this, then I'm going to have to call my therapist again.

(Yes, loves.  I have a therapist.  I saw her over the summer when the shit got real, and I have her number in my phone.  There is nothing wrong with admitting that you can't do something yourself and that you need help.  It's a very good thing to get help, to acknowledge that you are struggling, and to let someone hear you and bounce ideas to you.)

So, that makes me wonder.  Isn't that the point of this blog?  Maybe I'm using it wrong.  I have always thought of blogging as a place to dump my thoughts out of my head and into a void where someone may or may not read them and may or may not benefit from them.

(Also, you are always welcome and free to comment.  Feedback is always good.  I notice I get a fair number of hits but few comments.  Please, feel free to engage me. :) )

I keep a paper bound journal for the heavy stuff that I don't feel I can share on here.  And because writing on paper clears my soul almost more than a computer can.  However, I can type a lot faster than I can write in cursive on a page.  Hmm.

So yes, let's use this as a dumping place.  As an exploring place.  And you, my lovely readers, are going to possibly get sick of me.  But this is the best I've got and frankly, I've been pretty on the edge lately.

Where should we start?

As I said earlier, I did have a better day today.  I got caught in a bit of a snowstorm at school while walking from one building to another.  Community college spoiled me.  All the classes were in one building.  My current campus is huge and so much walking.  Which is great.

Trev brought me a hat at my request when he showed up on campus, and he had lunch with myself and a really good friend of mine.  I'm always happy when my fiance gets along with my friends. :)

I think the only part of today that wasn't super great (besides the snow) was the fact that I dropped my water bottle just right and it shattered.  I have a really nice bottle that I carry.  It's one of these, in the purple color shown in the picture.  I love purple and I hate unfiltered water, and frankly, it's the only way I'll drink water when at school.  I get so much use out of it.

And I dropped it.  And it hit just right.  And the entire top shattered.

Add this to yesterday when my backpack zipper broke, and I'm beginning to think the universe is possibly against me.  Or telling me to slow down and relax.

(Trev is always trying to tell me that everything is not a sign, that sometimes a broken thing is just a broken thing.  But seriously.  I went to school and got a creative writing degree.  For three years of my life, they pounded into my head that everything has a deeper meaning and sign.  That doesn't get broken overnight.  And yes, it did take me a long time to be able to read a book and just enjoy it.)

Anyway.

All day today I've been talking in my head in a British accent.  Not sure why, except that I've been reading an absurd amount of Loki/Darcy fanfiction and when I do, all I can hear is Tom Hiddleston's voice in my ear.

Next post is going to be entirely about fanfiction.  Because I honestly think it gets slammed way more than it should.

Alright, this post is long enough.

And I feel like it was pretty disjointed.  My bad.

I'll write another post shortly.

~Meaghan