I honestly have no idea where that came from and really don’t care. What I do care about is that this is exactly how I feel. Giddy.

Yes. I have had too much caffeine today. We will not discuss the massive quantity of hot tea that I just bolted down because I keep forgetting that I made it and it’s just getting cold and lukewarm chai tea has a tendency to taste more bitter and musty than spicy and refreshing.

And, yes, it’s the middle of the week and spring is pretty much here and I’m going to work in my garden today and I can’t wait to go outside and wear my shorts and my sandals which means that my feet will get suntanned with the sandals’ straps acting as a cover-up which means that I will have what I call “Zebra feet.”

Oh, and, yes, we also have only about 43 more school days until the end of the year and I am determined not to be unhappy this summer due to extenutating circumstances. And I am going to hike and walk and be outside and write.

And, OH, yes, I’m happy becuase I’m writing. Like a lot. Like two poems yesterday, one of which is in my Eve collection and another about my living room which is the color of a brown acorn. And I wrote a thousand words into Homeleaving. And a journal on my blog. And several pages of images.

Oh, and I wrote a poem this morning about the sunrise.

Damn. I’m happy. Just friggin’ happy and there’s some wonderful and positive changes getting ready to happen (more on that later). And I have my feet underneath me and I’m not afraid of life or to be alive or to chase my life with the glorious intent that I have within me.

I’ve been waiting for so long. And for years, at this point, I feel like Bilbo with butter spread too thinly over the bread which causes the bread to tear. But, no. This year. I’m not bread. I’m not butter. I’m me. Friggin’ deliriously giddy aunt me. Because I’m just not afraid anymore.

Afraid you might ask? Hell, yes. I was afraid. Afraid of hurting other people’s feelings. Afraid of being obnoxious to the point that I would be dismissed or left behind or rejected or thrown onto the other side of the fence. I was afraid of being lonely. I am good with being alone. I hate being lonely because that means that I have been rejected.

I have been going through a lot of self care and therapy recently. There. I said it. I’ve been working with a therapist and what’s wonderful about her is that she doesn’t just listen to me and all of my plantive cares. She listens to me, helps me find the aching nugget that’s upset my balance, and then teaches me strategies on how to deal with my anxieties and frustrations and pains. Because, like every other person on this Earth, I’m human. And I’m saturated with these emotional complexities that everyone else feels.

For too long, I have kept throwing myself under impossibly high measuring sticks and then beating myself up for not coming close to meeting the tops of those impossibly high measuring sticks. And because of that, I just didn’t accomplish what I could. Or thought I could. Or hoped I could.

I’m not accomplishing what I want just yet. But that’s because I’m editing. For so long, my writing process was to write and sort of edit. Well, thanks to a friggin’ amazing editor and some amazing books, I am owning my writing. I am writing with intent, with deliberate purpose. And, right now, I have three tabs open to literary magazines where I am going to submit my work and where I hope to be published. Because, well, I’m not afraid anymore.

I’m giddy. And I know this feeling will pass. I know the world is going to come tumbling down at some point and conk me on the head and I am going to have to find my way through the valley yet again. I know this. And I’m not being pessimistic. I’m being realistic.

But right now, I’m friggin’ giddy.