Happy November.

Or, as I'd like to think of it, "Crap, how is it the eleventh month already because it's now been almost a year since I was first planning Cambodia and it still feels like I just got back."

Yes.

This is me, near my desk, where I sit in agony for hours in front of my computer writing, or well, not writing. And that's my "I guess I'll wear a long sleeve since it's cold and dark and dreary now" look. Actually, that shirt is basically my new favorite thing because it was $6.99 at ROSS and I like stripes and fun collars.

I haven't said much about how my counseling is going. I don't even remember all the details of my sessions because I'm trying to process how I manage to make myself look like an emotional wreck every week. No. The truth is, I think, at my youthful age of 22, I am now beginning to finally make breakthroughs with myself. In exposing all of my vulnerabilities and insecurities, those which I can not even share with anyone, the struggles of the internal are manifesting into the physical. I think there is a source of wisdom that can be found in one's tears. Perhaps it is my body's way of telling me to drop the bravado and listen because there are some legitimate issues here that need to be explored, questioned and sought healing for. So though I hate crying in front of her, the tears always seem to push my ego past my chest and onto my pretty little face that I wish could remain untouched by my problems.

I also wrote to a friend today whom I had been anxious to share with. I learned my hesitancy to write had something to do with my competitive nature. I didn't want to share anything unless I thought it was exciting or adventurous, as it seems that my friend's life has been so much more exotic or interesting than mine. When you feel competitive but find your current situation mundane, it is hard to share with someone who is living on a mountain.

Then I remember what he said to me once: "I want to hear it if you want to say it."

The value of my words was not even so much in my words but in fact, the value he was trying to express was in me. For someone who spends so much time thinking about what to write and more aesthetically "important", how to write, it is hard to feel confidence in this affirmation. Alas, sometimes I muster enough courage to be honest and just share anyways.