17

What is this blog all about, anyway? Well, on the surface, it’s about me. But really, it’s about me and you and your neighbor, your best friend, boss, daughter-in-law, grocery store clerk.

It’s about all of us.

In grade school, I spent my rides home talking my mom’s ear off about every little thing that happened to me. Every day. The good, the bad. Things I did or didn’t do right. Things I noticed or that particularly bothered me. All of it. One time, I saw Greg Anderson’s tighty whities through a hole in his basketball shorts.

I felt guilty about it. I told my mom.

These days, I believe it’s called “word vomit.” Back then, I think I just desperately wanted to hear that everything would be okay. That I was okay. Normal. Lovable. Worthy. Maybe I wanted approval. Permission to be myself, even if it looked different from everyone else.

Shit, I’m 33 and still looking for someone to tell me I’m okay.

But the more I look around and talk to people, the farther along I get on this sequential timeline, it seems to me that a lot of us are looking for that kind of release and freedom. So, this is my way of offering some of that to you. My hope is that you read these posts and maybe see a little of yourself – the same fears, hopes, worries, ambitions, anxieties, dreams, frustrations.

I’m hoping you’ll see me biting and clawing my way through adulthood and finding my artistic voice and think to yourself, “Hey, I’m not so crazy after all.” Or, maybe you’ll think I’m a totally ridiculous weirdo, but then you’ll realize that you kind of are, too, and that will give you an unspoken permission to finally accept yourself, weirdness and all.

Because honestly, none of us are okay.

We’re all just trying really, really hard to feel more like we are.

This blog is me, in black and white, airing my dirty laundry in an effort to feel a little more okay. I hope that my laundry will somehow help you along with yours, even just the tiniest bit. And if it doesn’t, feel free to move along. No harm, no foul.

Cheers.

Lauren