I don't want to die...but.

It happened tonight.
In therapy.

Where I said.
When I realized the scared self
Was living in a room with nothing
and no good.
And worthless.
And unlovable.
I really don't want to die.

I don't.
I know that.
I've know that for a little over a year.

I don't want to kill myself.

But what happened.
Wasn't that.
I know that.

Jill, therapist extraordinaire, asked, so if you don't want to die...
You know you want to live.

And I paused.
And I said.
I say that.


What I'm really thinking is:
I don't want to die...
is not the same thing as I want to live.

And I'm not sure...
not so
That I want to live?

"Is that okay?"
I asked.
"That I don't know?"

And I guess that answer is.
It's okay, to not know if I want to live.

And here's why:
::big gulp::
I've never lived for me.

I haven't.
In 30 years.
Ever once.
Lived for me.

I've traveled.
And gone to college.
And challenged myself.
But not because I really dreamed of.
Or wanted to.

But because I thought I had to.
For someone else.
Else's parameters of what is good.
Or right.
To do.

Ever since I was adopted.
I've tried to be good enough.
Worthy of love enough.
Loving enough.
Smart enough.
Thin enough.
Pretty enough.
Good enough.
Worthy enough.
And since enough is a hamster wheel I can't get off of.

And I'm not a part of a family.
Can acknowledge that.
It's the kind of family like a lot of families.
They can read this,
And then feel sad for me.

And then, in the same breathe.
But this doesn't apply to us.

And I'm SO over that.
Because waiting for them to get it.
Is like waiting for the paint to dry.
Or pigs to fly.
Ain't gonna happen.

And so.
I set out tonight.
On a journey of trying to discover what it is...
for me...
to live.

What's that life?
It's not teaching.
It's not western Massachusetts and probably not Massachusetts at all.

The me that majored in Communication will tell you it's in a College Counseling or Res Life office somewhere.
The me that types this blog will tell you it's writing.

And taking care of myself.
And traveling.
And giving back.
And learning to love again.
Without fear of ...
It not mattering.
Because it does.

I'm learning to love myself.
In a the one way I've never been able to.


Happy Easter, friends!
(Breaking out my second favorite bikini for Spring Break!)


  1. I could claim most of this post as my own. I realized last summer that I've never thought I was good enough to live. For so long I've known that I'm good enough not to die…but now I realize I'm good enough to really live too! I know I don't believe this on a daily basis…but overall, I'm there! Thanks for sharing this journey with us and kudos to figuring out what life could/should be.

  2. I absolutely love this. I know you and I have traveled different roads but we have both encountered barriers that have lead to the same...trying to figure out who you are within this life. It's difficult feeling like you are always trying to live up to other people's expectations when yours are the only one that is important. I have started the journey of discovering myself too, and it has had its ups and downs. One thing is for sure, the feeling of joy you have for being who you truly are and exploring what the world has to offer is something that can't be measured. Thank you for the further inspiration and I enjoy reading your blog posts when they come available. By the way, you look gorgeous!


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