i didn't spend my Valentine's day preparing for a night out on the town,
or even preparing a fancy meal at home.
i didn't buy a new outfit.
i didn't get new shoes.
heck.... i didn't even wash my hair.
(except for a quick trip to mall)
my first participating Valentine's Day was mostly spent in sweats,
preparing chicken soup and sleepy time tea
for my very sick boyfriend.
It turns out, Valentine's Day has nothing to do with what you do
and everything to do with who you have to celebrate it with.
In my case, I got to spend my day with a
kind,
funny,
gracious man,
who reminds me I'm his Valentine
every
day
and even through
headaches
and fevers
and nyquil-induced comas
made sure I knew how much I am loved.

If he had any idea the kind of Valentine's Days
I've tortured myself with
to arrive at this very moment in my life,
where none of the flowers and candy and dinners mattered
and I can truly experience a love worth celebrating,
I hope he'd understand that they were all worth it--
That I wouldn't change a thing about the past
because it meant getting here,
today,
to him.

I got the job.
(!!!)
Just 3 weeks ago I was out of patience and nice.
Begging God for movement.
In 2 weeks i'll be packing up my office.
In 3 weeks i'll be in Florida. Post-Thanksgiving coma. Shopping with my favorite person.
In 3 weeks and 3 days i'll be walking into the offices of True North as an employee.
A Graphic Designer.

God is so good.

I stop to pray. A lot.
I've realized my need for Him
and how. much. better. life is when
it's not up to me.
I make myself run because TURKEY TROT.
I deep clean things. Often.
Close friends feel farther away
and family can't get here soon enough.
I've been researching costume ideas
for all the parties I'm not attending.
I wear the same tan flats every day.
Every. Day.
I've become grossly aware of how much I sweat
when in stressful situations (i.e. interviews).
Any excuse to give my hair one more day is
the perfect excuse.
I daydream about the kind of aunt I'll be,
the kind of flyer miles this baby is gonna get me,
and how incredibly far I am from ever having my own.
My skin has gotten it's act together.
I don't feel the need to wear a mask of foundation.
My moisturizer is the most expensive thing in my make-up bag.
I fill up my tank in case I want to skip town.
I do that thing where I avoid getting groceries
(because spending $7 on every meal feels less painful than
spending $50 at once.)
Loving myself feels less conditional.
Loving others seems less challenging.
Because lately, I care less about random expressed opinions
and more about what the people that actually love me have to say about my
character.
(Adulthood, amirite?)
I teeter on the edges of confidence and self-improvement and
salted-caramel-mochas ON A WEEKDAY. WHAT.
My room is in a permanent state of "that's where my DIY project is gonna go..
when I do it..
next weekend."
I shamelessly self-promote:
www.marielalaura.com