whatever you are, you're okay

New strategy for blog subscribers who aren't on social media: Reposting the Facebook posts on this blog so you still get the goodness to your inbox. #StillNotAnInnuendoISwear 

Reposted from the KatyKatiKate Facebook Page: 

While I'm working on a complicated piece about a complicated person, sometimes I need to remind myself:

If Inside Out taught me anything,
it’s okay to be sad.
Even about something that once made you happy,
or happy enough.

It’s okay to look back on a person you loved,
in a time when you were happy,
and feel grief for the poor young thing you were,
that you thought this was love.
That you were happy enough.

It’s okay to listen to music and sit,
and wait to remember.
It’s okay to break up
with what you thought you were,
what you thought love was,
with “happy enough.”

It’s okay to ask yourself what
what
you were thinking
when you defended him.

It’s okay to feel furious at the poor, dumb thing
you were, that you took the side
of the person who fought in the battle against you,
on the battleground of you,
for possession of you.
(Don’t forget how young she is,
so much younger than you are now.
Don’t forget she was happy,
or happy enough.)

It’s okay to choose not to be funny.
It’s okay to resist the punchline.
I’m not kidding.

It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay.
It’s okay to sit and wait to remember
all the fucked-up ways he worked you, like the anatomy volunteer for the fine-gauge needles he slipped in,
that left no marks under your skin:
like the way you look for a certain kind of secret reassurance,
the way you believe that nobody else believes in you,
that you should be grateful.
The way you feel relief when someone tells you
you’re safe, now, I’ve got you, come with me, I’ll walk you home.
The way you know your next line, and believe yourself when you say it:
“Thank you.”

And it’s okay to be delighted
when that safe, saving, person who loved you
(and so many others, you learn)
in the way only he could love you,
which was against you,
upon you,
and in possession of you,
gets fucked,
absolutely pounded by karma.

It's SO okay, girl.
It’s okay to smile.

It’s okay to cry in public, too,
by the way.

It’s okay to look unhinged
when you’re swinging free,
unlocked from your frame,
until you spin to the ground like a wayward shutter.
It’s okay to stare at the sky and wait for what happens next.
It’s okay to laugh while you’re crying.

It’s okay to stop laughing.
It’s okay to discover a secret story
within the facts you’ve worn smooth over the years.
Funny story: this is not a funny story.

It’s okay to still love him.
It’s okay to believe he still loves you.
You’re not broken.

It’s okay to be terrible company.
It’s okay to have nothing to say.
It’s okay to be quiet.
It’s okay to wait.

You’re not broken,
and you’ll be more
unbroken soon.

Until then, it’s okay.
It’s okay.
It’s okay.

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