Journal: Entry for Mortie

I feel that with every box i unpack, I get a little more of myself back.

Don't get me wrong, I loved living with my parents, they are wonderful people. But, they are very conventional, very plain, very quiet, and very quick to raise an eyebrow at actions or things out of their scope of reality

I think it first hit me when I unpacked my kitchen things. My big shiny stockpot was all dusty and as I cleaned it, all I could think about was making my Spicy Rainbow Garden Soup (NB me for the recipe, it'll blow your socks off!)

Then out came the blankets I've sewn or knitted, or whatever. More colors, more quirks, more of me, and what I love, reflected in the things I own.

My Scott and I laughed and laughed as I pulled all sorts of odd treasures out. My starburst chain, that i was going to make into a cool doorway thing (like they do with beads on strings). My rock collection from hikes and adventures I've been on. My beautiful guitars, that was like saying hello to some long lost friends. My boxes and boxes of books. My sketches. Everything I have has a story, and it's wonderful to remember good times while sorting through all my junk

Lastly my collection of Converse shoes. Icing on the cake I can be all goofy again, from the ankles down, I've missed that at work, where we all wear our scrubs. ' />

I'm my own person again, not the reserved toned down version of myself. I feel alive and wonderful!