I was sitting on the front porch last night nursing my 6th (or 7th) glass of wine (side note: I hurt today.) and talking to Whit and having an existential crisis to end all days but particularly to end a day when I feel like I got put through the ringer from the minute I woke up and realized what I dreamed about.
(My dreams have been more like nightmares as of late.)
I’m 27. (Holy. God. I’m 27.) And I feel like I’m adjusting to things about, say, 10 years behind when I should have started. I’ve been having a rough go with, well, seemingly everything. But the thing is, as much hurt as I’ve felt lately, these things I know for sure:
1. My friends are wonderful and gorgeous and oh so eloquent with words. They’re blessed with the right things to say and even if I’m drowning in pain from one friend, I have ten friends to pick me up, pour the wine bottle, and kick me in the ass.
2. My family, quirky and twerky and themselves, is awesome. My safe place is my parent’s house. My upcoming Saturday night will be spent with my brother and every football game we can muster. My family is my family and I love them.
3. I am blessed.