Simple. Ups and downs. It always gets better. Life is a field of dips and valleys and hills and little moles popping up and distracting you every now and then.

There are points when you feel like the entire landscape is burning around you and you can’t put out the flames. Then there are times when shit is so even and flowers are blooming. You look around and you’re like, shit. This is so good. Holy moly. Is this my life? Is this Garden of Eden my reality.

Then it dips again. Sometimes it’s not even a terrible or great landscape. Sometimes it’s horribly average.

I think therapy is still helping. Wendy and I chat. Sometimes I cry and she gives me tips on shit like slowing down time and ways to make my life practically feasible.

I think I’ll always have those bad days like my last post. I’m learning that those don’t go away. But likewise, the good days, full of love and laughter and faith are also going to not go away.

Sometimes, the pain amplifies the joy. Sometimes the anger and frustration brings about more clarity than anything else.

And I have to be alright with that. I think I’m working on it. I think sometimes I get frustrated feeling like I need to expel shit out through words on here to get out. Like I need some sort of release from all the anger.

But then I remember, this is my process. Dear reader, your process–if it’s not hurting others–is yours.

A couple weeks ago I was angry about people being awful to me at my job (not my squad, more so the community). I told Wendy about it. She said that I’m super defensive (home girl has no qualms about telling me about myself which I like, honestly). She said I need to pick a strategy, whether it’s humor or straight up truth telling or just silence, I have pick something and go with it. After that, move on. Because I can’t change anyone else, but I can control how I feel about the situation.

So. Where does this lead me? How does this all fit together?

Anger is normal. Sadness–sometimes a bit of depression–happens. But I’m to try to stop beating myself up about it and feeling like needing to express it makes me weak (because let me be honest, that is why I hate expressing shit).

I guess this is more for me than you. But again, isn’t this whole thing sort of like that?