The Year I Grew

I can't believe it's been six months since I've written you.

I work two jobs. My feet hurt. I've gained weight.

I'm Bridget Fucking Jones.

Nah, just kidding. I mean, my feet do really hurt.... But if I'm Bridget Jones then there's a Mark Darcy that looks a lot like Colin Firth in my future and I'm hashtag excited.

The past six months. How do I sum up my life for you? Basically, the past six months have been... important. The past year of my life has been the most important year I've lived.

Can I tell you about it?

See, a year ago, almost to the date, I had a series of conversations with a number of very influential people in my life. I had just come off a rough patch of admitting mistakes and picking up some pieces and trying to regain my self esteem and all the things twenty year olds never talk about because we're too young to be this confused but too old to have our parents fix it, so we usually just wait it out. Well, it was clear that the waiting period was over.

I talked with one friend who lives too far away and cried to him that I felt like a failure.
I talked to this one chick who gave birth to me about how I didn't want to disappoint her.
I talked to a certain gem about how I wish I was the kind of person that made their bed.
I talked with the dude I call Dad but isn't really my dad about moving back home. He said no.....
I talked and I talked and I talked, but I didn't make a plan.

The plan sort of found me. I didn't want to move back home, and I didn't want to be in school. So I got a job. I wrote in my journal that I would make my bed every day before I went to work. Maybe by making my bed, by taking a moment to do something for myself, I could teach myself to also not just wash but put away my laundry and not just buy books but also read them and not just buy spinach but also eat it before it becomes some sort of soup (like what happens to it? why does it do that...) Regardless of my lack of ability to eat the fresh foods I buy, slowly but surely I started to build something. Call it a schedule, call it a routine... I don't know. It feels bigger than that?

The backstory is that before a year ago there were days where I didn't get out of bed. There were phone calls where I just needed to hear someone else's thoughts other than my own. There were really bad days. So instead of building a schedule or a routine... I think I built myself a life. I was a better friend. I was an honest person. My anxiety washed away. I was paying for all my bills all on my own. I was a full fledged working human with new plans and dreams and goals...and a beautiful bed.

That was just the beginning. Within the first few months of my new year, I went out and met more people than I think I've ever known in my life. I, MacKenzie McCullum, actually talked to human males. And, like, danced with 'em. I found that while I was growing up and showing up everyday to work towards happiness, life was giving and giving and giving me so many rewards for my hard work. Now, that doesn't mean my feet didn't hurt. Have I mentioned my feet hurt? Okay. Just check-- they really do.

Within a year, I've taken more trips than I did before my twenties. I've been to more family gatherings  than I did in the past year. I worked more hours a week than the freaking president (that's probs not true, though..) I drove through the mountains of Colorado and threw up in a gas station bathroom because of the elevation sickness and it was perfect. I flew to California and spent the day in Disneyland and ate a Mickey pretzel and blasted music through some hills called the Grapevine. I went to the state fair with my mom where she turned to me and said, 'You look really happy.' I got a job where I get paid to work in theatre. I played a weekly game of Drinktionary. On Thanksgiving I took a walk with my brother and he said, 'The past is the past, we only look forward.' I mean, come on. That's a good year.

I don't know how to put it into words, this feeling of gratitude and pride and confidence and love. See, I didn't think this kind of happiness was in the cards for me. I didn't realize that while I was stumbling and falling, there was this group of people who refused to walk away. What you've allowed me to do by continuing to show up for me and listen and hand me tissues and go for a drive and sit in total silence. You allowed me the opportunity to build. I don't write as often of my struggles because they are not as painful and don't last as long. Or, maybe, I just have the right tools now and am better prepared.

I'm going to continue to build this life, bit by bit, and continue to add people and places and things to my journey. I'm so very thankful you've been a part of it. This blog. The readers. My friends. When I started this blog, I was very lost. I needed something tangible where I could read my words and feel less alone. You gave me so much more. The posts on this blog chronicle a fight and a battle and a victory. I won because of me, but I also won because of you. 

It's been an important year. Thank you, truly, for sharing it with me.

Cheers to you.


(feet still hurting)

Advocating Joy

I keep finding myself dreaming the same dream. I'm at an intersection, stuck in the worst traffic of my life. I'm behind the wheel of a car I just bought for $300 (I don't own a car, that's how much they cost, yes?) and it dies (because the piece o' shiiit was $300, I KNOW). I'm scrambling, frantic, can't figure out what to do. The person in the passenger seat keeps changing. First it's my mom, she's drinking beer. Then it's my best friend Jane, who's just straight laughing at me. Then it's Topaz, who is asleep. Then it's my dad, then my friend josh, then my professor, then my fourth grade crush who turned out to be a really hot dude, then this chick that called me a pig and she now has a pig nose in this dream and she fucking deserves it. I'm paying so much attention to the people appearing in my passenger seat, I'm doing nothing to get out of this intersection. I'm remaining stuck in a $300 car that I now remind myself smells like a drug that also smells like skunks. The dream ends when I realize the metaphor for my life and the fact that I'm living in a Zach Braff movie and I kind of want to vomit.

And then I'm up.
And that's my life.

Currently, on July 30th, 2014, at 23 years old, I'm in that intersection. A lot of people in much nicer cars are passing me by. They probably have good credit and a college degree and smell like pine needles or something... I don't. I smell like espresso and sweat, I do not enjoy school, and I won't comment on my credit because the people that want to talk about that are probably reading this right now... I'm stuck in that intersection and for the first time, I think ever, I'm okay with it.

It's no secret that the past two/three years of my life have been this giant learning curve. I have gotten lost on that curve so many times, I think it should be called a learning maze (I'm BRILLIANT.) I have never been so happy to be so lost. In the past six months, I've found more reason for joy than I ever have in my life so far. Every morning I wake up and I make people their morning latte, grab them their coffee, and send them off with a 'have a great day' and a silent 'please tip me or you will have seven years bad luck' smile. I have never enjoyed a job this much. I have never found a group of coworkers that make me smile and laugh and accept all my neurotic behavior. I have never been more honest, more kind, more accepting, and more adaptable. And it's because I made a plan. In December, I was at another intersection and I made a plan, I asked for a lot of help, and most importantly I made a decision to work for happiness, and it appeared.

In the past six months I have also repeatedly asked the question: 'Where am I going to go in this life?' I maybe ask it 5 times a day? Probz more like 64. Somewhere between 64 and 5 is the amount of times I ask myself where am I going and what do I want to do and who will I meet and will I be a success story and what if I fail, but, oh sweet child, what if I succeed! and a million other questions. And while I'm sitting there asking myself over and over why I still haven't managed to train for a 5k (because there's this thing called baby steps and first I have to learn how to download a running app on my phone, obviously) I am seeing friends run marathons. While I'm asking myself why I haven't moved away from Duluth, I see friends moving to opposite coasts. Life is changing around me, cars are flying past, and I'm in that intersection. For a long time, I saw that as a setback. Why was it my car that broke down? Why am I the one struggling so much at this one thing that actually everyone struggles with but I feel like it's just me because no one talks about???

I'm learning to love that intersection. It's really fun to be me right now. This summer I've been in six different states, I saw THE CORN PALACE (?!?!?!!?!_~@), started a weekly game of Drinktionary, have started writing something I'm really excited about, own a bike that I'm trying to fix on my own but am probably just making worse, have caught up on Game of Thrones, and have realized that I'm the happiest I've ever been. So even in my small little world, that's an amazing feat. I lose sight of this accomplishment when I worry about what people think, what those passengers in my car would really say if I told them I didn't mind being stuck. Maybe being stuck with them in a car in a busy intersection will make one hell of a story for us to tell one day...

So, today I'm making this plan: I will always advocate for joy. If it makes me happy, it will remain in my life. If it doesn't, it needs to be removed. If I continue to work towards this ideal goal of happiness, but am always attempting to keep things that make me unhappy, I will continue to feel defeated. Cars get stuck, too many donuts get eaten, phones get dropped in liquid... life happens. So let's create real moments of joy, of following our gut, of making mistakes and taking insane chances and let's fall in love with the wrong person and drink too many summer shandy's and, you know, work for happiness. Let's get stuck and cry about it and then laugh and learn the lesson, just like Zach Braff needs us to.

It was my decision to continue living in Duluth without attending school for a semester, to take a break away from theatre and meet new people and pay my bills on time and find a solid, positive job and I did all those things. That was my plan and it brought me the most amazing amount of joy.

My plan now is to keep on that road. To take my time. To remember to breathe. To be proud of others, to be kind to myself. To make my bed. To read my books. To write my poems that I will never show to anyone, no matter how many beers I've had. And to remind myself 23 is kind of the perfect age to get a little lost, and have your imaginary $300 car break down in your dreams. I hope I keep having that dream. I want to finish it, to see myself ignore the passenger for just enough time to make my own decision, and save myself one more time.

Cheers.

Caged Bird, Be Free...

I was twelve years old when I first read the words of Maya Angelou. I was too young. I pretended, often, to know what words like iridescent and palpable meant. I pretended to understand her prose, her rhythm, her voice. I pretended until I understood.

In most American high schools, you're required to read I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, and while most kids looked online for the summary, I read every page twice. I soaked up the knowledge, the pain, the humor. She was so funny in that book. She could talk about sadness and make me smile. That's because Maya Angelou wasn't perfect, didn't want to be perfect, and probably wouldn't like you if you were perfect. She was the real deal. She was a woman.

Three days ago I sobbed myself to sleep because for the first time in a long time I was afraid to be a woman. A guy with a gun shot seven girls because they had opinions, attitudes, personalities... souls. Because they were more than their body parts. He instilled the notion that sometimes you can do everything right, and there is still a reason to be afraid. And I was.

And as I thought about my fear, or my guilt if it can even be called that, I though about Maya. I thought about Hilary. I thought about Susan B. and Amelia and Harriet and women that I studied and dreamt about. Women that I feel I know. I feel I'm connected to. And that connection no longer makes me afraid. When I think of my mother, my aunts, my best friend, my sources of strength that have seen the darkest of days and yet remain intact... I have realized in the past few days that the strongest I've ever felt is when I am surrounded by strength. And there is no one stronger than a woman. (I mean, childbirth. Let's talk about that for a second.)

So. After a pretty sad week of thinking of all the times I've been told to protect my self rather than have boys be told to, you know, not be sucky people... I've come to the conclusion (not really, my mind will change thirteen more times today) that while I cannot predict if the man walking down the street is going to pass by or mug me (again)... I know that I am solid.

 I will cry at every episode of Gilmore Girls. I think Barack Obama's smile won his election, the first time. I eat more chocolate than is legal. I pretend to be on the phone when I think someone is about to come up and talk to me at bus stops. I think shaving your legs in the winter is stupidity personified. Sports bras. I don't own any kitchen appliances. And every summer instead of buying shorts I cut the pants I've worn all winter into shorts. I'm a woman. I'm so proud to be a woman. And you should be proud to be around a woman, because she will get shit done.

That's what Maya taught me. There is going to be chaos. There is going to be grief. Despair. Heartache with heartbreak. Years will go by and you'll realize you haven't moved. And then one day the fog lifts, you make a plan, and in the way only a woman will understand... you clean up your mess and you get shit done. It's just that simple.

I will miss Maya. I will miss her words, which have made the world a better place.
I finally understand your prose (well, kinda) and I absolutely hear your voice as you say:

I am a woman, phenomenally. Phenomenal woman, that's me. 

Sleep well.
Cheers.

Adele Dazeem. What?

A quick note to say that it's the best feeling on the planet when you realize you have been 100% yourself. All day I was crabby. People are bossy. People are annoying. And I was walking around telling myself not to get worked up and to let it go, and I couldn't. But I got home, called Teri D, and forced myself to laugh about it and move on. And you know, it's just the best feeling. I'm not going to settle or pretend that I don't get (fucking) livid at points. I'm not going to pretend I don't overreact at least 78 times a day. No one should have to pretend anything. For a while there, the past three years maybe, I thought I had to push away a lot of emotions so people would think of me as the funny-but-gets-things-done version of myself. I am that person, but I'm also the person that will openly weep if you point out my acne. I'm starting, or I'm continuing, to really love my 22 year old self. It's such a journey, and when there's spilt coffee and people telling you they're better at life and too tight of pants you can really lose the good times. I'm just thankful for humor, for honest moments, and for days like today where you get pissed and then get over it. Some people spend so much energy and time holding on to grudges. They are not cool people. I am cool people. Obvvvvvviioussllyyy.

I need to not be crabby. Aka, where's the beer?

Kiss kiss.

Cheers.

(don't be bossy. okay, bye.)

Honey & I

Last night I spent time with a few gals and gents I have spent the past few years with. It was such a beautiful moment to just sit in a room and talk, vent, joke, and most importantly laugh. Most of them are well into their last semester of school, and it's a bizarre feeling to know that I started school before them and will be here after they leave. In my most selfish of moments, it makes me feel lesser. In my strongest moments, I know with everything in me taking time from school was the best decision I could have made. And I've been met with nothing but kindness from so many people about taking control of my life and creating my own path. It's a beautiful thing when you can feel a person's support, their guiding hand on your back on the really bad days.

Last night as I was about to leave, one of the girls that hosted our evening told me such kind words, I feel selfish even sharing them... but. whatever. imma do it. She told me that there have been moments throughout our time together in college, specifically this year, where she had said to herself that if she could be anyone for a day she would be me. And I'm thinking... ME?! What? Immediately my mind went into 'You're getting a compliment, smile and hug and you'll process this later' mode. It was such an unbelievable kindness she showed me. It's an amazing thing to tell someone. But the insecurities of life took that moment and I immediately told myself, 'She doesn't really know me.' And that's just not fair. That's not what I want for myself. I'm not sure why it happened, or why I couldn't accept the gift I was being given by being told I was someone who is interesting, beautiful, kind, and most importantly human enough to embody for a day. I guess I thought, more than anything, if she were to live in my shoes for a day she would see how un-spectacular I really was as a person. But... this morning, over my peanut butter and honey toast, I'm calling bullshit.

Spectacular has to mean getting up for work on time. Spectacular has to mean cutting your bangs yourself and of course they're uneven but they're mine and they're perfect. Spectacular has to mean not fitting into your jeans so you wear dresses until that happens again. Spectacular has to mean forcing yourself to write by going to a coffee shop with no wallet, no internet and no headphones so you're forced to find out what new updates Microsoft Word is working with. Spectacular has to be the most human moments you carry with you day to day, because those moments are what make me feel strong.

I don't like self-doubt. I don't like loneliness. I don't like turning a compliment into a worry. But maybe that's part of the makeup of MacKenzie. I can never truly understand why someone would want to live as me when I get so bored/lonely/tired just going to work and coming home... maybe somewhere in the world there is a person who can't feel those things... who longs for emotion. They can have some of mine. I'm willing to give that up for day. But just a day. I think I'd miss it if it left. Weird.

Cheers to the compliments that stay with you, deep inside for a long long time. Cheers to kind words, and kind souls. Cheers to you.

Little Fighter Girl

This blog is kind of a jumbled mess, so forgive the bad grammar/typos/no clear beginning middle end to it all. I'm currently sitting in my room, tea and book beside me, ready to call it a night (7:30 pm, I'm 79 years old, thankyouverymuch) after a near perfect weekend. I got to see so many people I absolutely adore in the past two days... I was able to watch theatre, drink a very large beer, dance, and have meaningful, honest conversations with people I'm just crazy about. That's all I really want, meaningful moments with people that fill my life with joy.

A lot of my blog posts have been me trying to understand the concept of happiness. Of what it means to truly find happiness, or maybe it's not something you find but something you grow within. I've always thought feeling strong meant feeling happiness. In one post, I said that I hope happiness is a journey. In other, I asked how it could be so easy to notice the bad days and forget about the good. Well, I think, a month into my 'find joy' experiment, I have an answer.

Happiness is work. It's a lot of (fucking) work, and it's the most gratifying work I've ever experienced.  It takes waking up every morning and choosing a positive, healthy life. Every single person gets the same 24 hours each day, how we choose to spend them is a result in our ultimate happiness. I saw a play last night, and a character asks, point blank: 'Who said you were owed happiness?' It stays with me because I truly think for a few years there I expected happiness. I expected a life with things and people and experiences without actually working for anything. I'm not sure why it took me so long to choose happiness for myself, but I'm so grateful it's finally here.

One of my favorite conversations of the weekend was with a friend who said, 'The kindest person in the room has the hardest time falling asleep at night.' It goes along with another conversation I had about how people with good souls, with honest intentions, with pure hearts... they take the longest to forgive themselves. It's people who are quick to forgive themselves and move on that you need to worry about, because their heart bounces back too quick. I've made a lot of mistakes in the past few years, not really taking care of myself and being quick to ignore what I truly want out of this life... and in the past year I've filled my days with guilt. It's the casual thought walking to class thinking you're not good enough. It's looking at your bank statement and making a joke rather than getting a job. It's not taking yourself seriously and then being shocked when other people don't. It's little things that add up to a really big thing, realizing your guilt is now a tangible, malignant role in your everyday life. I used to think it would never go away. I always saw guilt as permanent. I never realized, until these conversations this weekend, that there is power in guilt. There's an insane amount of power in seeing guilt, accepting choices/mistakes, and pursuing a goal to overcome it. There's power in understanding our own humanity, our own mortality.

I've always said forgiveness is one of my favorite things in this world. It's a beautiful moment when you can look at someone from your past and feel your heart change... the pain or anger or injustice, it's simply gone. After a month of changing my days and choosing to see joy in my everyday, I realized this weekend that I've, in some small way, forgiven myself. And, ultimately, it's led to happiness. Happiness isn't a journey, it isn't some magic puzzle that you figure out when the right person walks into your life. It's work. It's the decisions you make in your 24 hours. It's choosing joy. It's working to be a better you.

I'm so grateful for this past weekend, I saw so many people I'm just crazy about. I got to feel their pride as they told me I looked beautiful, or I seemed like I was doing well. And I am. Guys, I'm doing really well. The best part, is that for the first time in years, I'm doing well because of my own actions. I'm not waiting for someone to catch me. I'm not waiting for someone to fight my battles. I'm choosing everyday to make my time worth it. I'm working my ass off for happiness, and it's worth every fight. Happiness in itself doesn't necessarily make me feel strong, but choosing positivity, choosing to fall asleep at a decent time... choosing to brush my teeth and make my bed and eat the goddamn salad and read read read and admit loneliness and tell your friend you're proud of him and... to truly live, to have full days of accomplishing small goals... I guess I've never felt this strong. Since starting this blog, I've always wanted to get to this point. The point of feeling pride in myself because I'm taking an active role in my life. I'm actively choosing moments of joy, which lead me to my own, small, unique, full days of happiness. Yes. Yes. Absolutely, yes.

Cheers to the fighters. Cheers to the cheerleaders. Cheers to breaking down walls within and choosing moments of joy. Cheers to you.

But This Wind, Tho...

As said in the last post, I've been feeling all kinds of lonely in the past few days. It's only grown since all I've done is go to work and come home and veg out... but this morning, as my friend's slept in due to the first snow day of the semester, I posted a status from work... stating how even though I'm not a student at the moment (taking time off to get some life experience/pay some bills/grow da fuque up) I was able to go into work this morning and hopefully warm up people's day with some bakery goodness and coffee. And while of course it's social media so you should expect a few likes here and there, I find myself smiling as each individual who acknowledged the post. I don't know. Facebook is stupid shit. It's a weird mind game where you post about yourself so people know you're alive and married and bought a new car and look at my dog jumping over my cat and I'm wearing this dress today with these boots aren't I cute and it's just the stupidest... But it's also a place of support, especially this morning when I craved a hug.

I don't know. I feel like a fourteen year old posting about a status... but it just made me so happy. It's my moment of joy for today. My kodak moment. Plans for tonight sort of fell through and so just knowing that even if your not physically with your best mates, the support is never far. That's a great feeling to carry on your back.

Oh, winter. All the feelings, at all the same times. Go home, vortex, you're just a big bitch.

okbyenow.