Hello old friend.
I’ve thought about you every day for a year. I just never really knew the right thing to say. But I think now, I do.
I started writing here about 8 years ago. That alone is a crazy sentence that exists on the internet. I never believed that for even a moment anyone would care about what aliens I dreamed about or what sharks I drew or what pimples were talking to me. But here we are.
And as I write this to you on this day, I also am living my last day of therapy after 2 years. I am moving into a totally different chapter of my life and I’m closing the books on another. And just like every other kid out there, I’m graduating.
Throughout the past 5 years, I’ve experienced the most dramatic changes in my life. I became a mother, I completely and utterly lost myself and I came out like one of those puzzles that someone is so proud of, that they actually glue the pieces together and put it under some weird glass frame, because it was THAT hard to complete. And I made the hard choice to do it completely privately and within my own parameters.
For some time, I had found a comfort in oversharing. It was almost a defense mechanism of ohmygodthingsaresobad I MUST LAUGH OR I’LL NEVER STOP CRYING. And for a while that worked out pretty well. I did laugh, we all laughed. And things didn’t seem so bad…until they were so bad. But thank the universe that it did get so bad, because here I am. I’m here and good because I was there and bad.
For a long time in my life I struggled with just being. I always thought that life was just that way for everyone. And I still think that maybe it is. And I truly wish that every single living human being on this planet could take 2 years of their lives to get serious therapy. Work out their shit and come out strong. There is no money better spent.
And that’s what I did. And slowly..very slowly, I realized that things were changing all around me. It’s truly the magic of therapy. It just slowly changes your thought process about life and then life changes around you.
But you know all of this. I’ve told you this part.
When I started this jazz up again, I thought..”I’m doing so well! I’m ready to come back.” And that was half true. I was doing so well. However, I was doing so well that I didn’t need to come back. And even as that sentence is read in my mind, I cringe. Because, I loved writing here and sharing with the world and reading your thoughts and having this little OHSHITMYLIFE… community. It was cathartic. But I just didn’t need it. Because life was enough.
Back in the high days of MODG, I’d wake up and say GD PANTS I HATE PANTS. And then I’d write about it. And you would all say JESUS I HATE PANTS TOO! And then I’d feel those connections. Those sort of false connections. But they were enough.
One day, I found myself not waking up and hating much of anything. In fact I found myself waking up excited to see my friends, look forward to working at my kid’s school, happy to curl my hair and put on purple eye liner. Of course I still hated pants…and man pee driving down my toilet. But the happy stuff was way better. And that’s what I needed.
And so MODG sort of fell asleep. She didn’t so much die. She just sort of hibernated, waiting for me to forget my meds, to say fuck therapy, to just say that it’s all too hard. But I am pretty sure she’s still in that cave. Maybe a bear ate her, who knows.
But I’m here and I’m awesome. And this is my farewell, and also my thank you.
Thank you for giving me 8 years of laughter, audience and sanity. Because there were plenty of times where I thought I would lose my mind if my baby didn’t take a GD nap or if sobbing about the loss of a natural birth was at all normal. And you were there for me. When I really had nothing else, you were there.
This part of my life was magical. It was my little moment of fame. I will never forget this and I will one day tell my grandchildren that I wrote “blogs on the internet.” And they will say, “where did you keep your robot laser telepathy pens?’’ And I’ll sigh and say…kids these days.
Fairly soon this blog, on this part of the webs will no longer be here. However, I’d like to get every single entry into a book for my own personal keeping. If I can, I may find a way to self publish so you can have a copy…if you’d like.
And never forget, peeing IS believing.
So long, farewell. DTHC4LIFE
Much love, Amanda