I’ve never been anxious to write about a year before but there is something that is just below the surface right now that I can’t really put my finger on.

38 has been wild.

38 started out pretty hard. I cried myself to sleep on my birthday and spent the weekend after my birthday feeling really alone, emotionally hungover and feeling a little bit more without than I knew/know how to describe.

I set into my summer with intentions to set some boundaries, to rest and to do things that felt like me.

And then my best friend and I ended up on a Tito’s party bus.

It was one of those nights that deservedly could have ended up like the movie the Hangover. We got on a party bus, not knowing where it was going, where we might end up or who any of the people were

Thankfully (obviously) we’re both still alive and have an epic story that we don’t know if we can top (or should top).

And that (this is maybe a little dramatic) was my last nights of being 38 that felt normal.

That Sunday I woke up with a half paralyzed face and it then spurred 4 weeks of two ER visits, having such intense vertigo I couldn’t move my head or walk to my bathroom without puking, I couldn’t leave my room or walk down my stairs or eat anything.

I physically haven’t felt normal since. Though it’s gotten immensely better I can’t smile without my left eye crinkling, my ear is still a bit ringy, I’m consistently 5% off balance, eating is hard, I spill on myself constantly and I can’t whistle.

And blanketed in all of this, is grief. And doing all of it without my mom even on the other side of the phone.

Those are all the things I’m holding in one hand.

In the other hand is the fact that I just came to a realization that I think I’ve never felt more like a badass in my life.

Since August 20th I auditioned for and was in a musical again, I was in charge of a crew of munchkins backstage, I for the most part never stopped doing announcements at church even though I kind of hated talking in front of people, I spoke at church on Christmas Eve, I stage managed and called a show for three weekends. I still sang karaoke and still was in pictures even thought I don’t like looking at myself.

I did my absolute best to continue to show up for myself even though it’s been really, really hard to look at myself in the mirror.

I’m not saying I did it all or I didn’t have a lot of nights of crying in the dark of my room. I’m not saying that I didn’t want to give up and stop showing up multiple times.

And I’m not saying there weren’t stretches of time where I didn’t show up with my whole self.

I’m very quick to diminish a hard thing I’ve done or am doing because so many people do harder things everyday.

People walk around with life threatening illnesses and autoimmune diseases and so many things in between and I just have a face that won’t work and eyes that water constantly and a body that won’t stay steady.

But, I have to come to the realization and the reminder that in my year of 38 I showed up in ways I didn’t want too.

I spent a lot of my life not wanting to talk because my voice sounded funny. I spent a lot of my life hiding because I was overweight and was made fun of.

I spent a lot of it thinking I was a burden and trying to just disappear.

But, even in spite of all the history my brain tells me and of my desire to not look in a mirror, I knew in 38 I was going to show up in spite of.

I was going to speak because I had things to say.

I was going to be in a musical because we all deserved that redemption.

I was going to encourage kiddos and teens in a musical because they needed adults in their corner.

And I was going to do it because, in spite of what I may believe, things, places, situations are better when I show up.

Whenever I sit down to write these little letters to a past year of life I never actually know what will happen. I don’t know what words will come out.

But, I guess for today; the words that came out are simply this.

Dear 38,

I’m glad I didn’t let you show me up.

Thanks for reminding me I’m a badass.

With love,

Meg

PS.

Let’s just stay calm this week k? (Unless it’s like really, really good)

I’ve never been anxious to write about a year before but there is something that is just below the surface right now that I can’t really put my finger on.

38 has been wild.

38 started out pretty hard. I cried myself to sleep on my birthday and spent the weekend after my birthday feeling really alone, emotionally hungover and feeling a little bit more without than I knew/know how to describe.

I set into my summer with intentions to set some boundaries, to rest and to do things that felt like me.

And then my best friend and I ended up on a Tito’s party bus.

It was one of those nights that deservedly could have ended up like the movie the Hangover. We got on a party bus, not knowing where it was going, where we might end up or who any of the people were

Thankfully (obviously) we’re both still alive and have an epic story that we don’t know if we can top (or should top).

And that (this is maybe a little dramatic) was my last nights of being 38 that felt normal.

That Sunday I woke up with a half paralyzed face and it then spurred 4 weeks of two ER visits, having such intense vertigo I couldn’t move my head or walk to my bathroom without puking, I couldn’t leave my room or walk down my stairs or eat anything.

I physically haven’t felt normal since. Though it’s gotten immensely better I can’t smile without my left eye crinkling, my ear is still a bit ringy, I’m consistently 5% off balance, eating is hard, I spill on myself constantly and I can’t whistle.

And blanketed in all of this, is grief. And doing all of it without my mom even on the other side of the phone.

Those are all the things I’m holding in one hand.

In the other hand is the fact that I just came to a realization that I think I’ve never felt more like a badass in my life.

Since August 20th I auditioned for and was in a musical again, I was in charge of a crew of munchkins backstage, I for the most part never stopped doing announcements at church even though I kind of hated talking I front of people, I spoke at church on Christmas Eve, I stage managed and called a show for three weekends. I still sang karaoke and still was in pictures even thought I don’t like looking at myself.

I did my absolute best to continue to show up for myself even though it’s been really, really hard to look at myself in the mirror.

I’m not saying I did it all or I didn’t have a lot of nights of crying in the dark of my room. I’m not saying that I didn’t want to give up and stop showing up multiple times.

And I’m not saying there weren’t stretches of time where I didn’t show up with my whole self.

I’m very quick to diminish a hard thing I’ve done or am doing because so many people do harder things everyday.

People walk around with life threatening illnesses and autoimmune diseases and so many things in between and I just have a face that won’t work and eyes that water constantly and a body that won’t stay steady.

But, I have to come to the realization and the reminder that in my year of 38 I showed up in ways I didn’t want too.

I spent a lot of my life not wanting to talk because my voice sounded funny. I spent a lot of my life hiding because I was overweight and was made fun of.

I spent a lot of it thinking I was a burden and trying to just disappear.

But, even in spite of all the history my brain tells me and of my desire to not look in a mirror, I knew in 38 I was going to show up in spite of.

I was going to speak because I had things to say.

I was going to be in a musical because we all deserved that redemption.

I was going to encourage kiddos and teens in a musical because they needed adults in their corner.

And I was going to show up because, in spite of what I may believe, things are better when I show up.

Whenever I sit down to write these little letters to a past year of life I never actually know what will happen. I don’t know what words will come out.

But, I guess for today; the words that came out are simply this.

Dear 38,

I’m glad I didn’t let you show me up.

Thanks for reminding me I’m a badass.

With love,

Meg

PS.

Let’s just stay calm this week k? (Unless it’s like really, really good)