Nobody puts baillee in the corner

(I have no shame, if you were wondering)

I want to start off by apologizing to anyone who was hurt or confused by me picking up and going home. I’m sorry if anyone got upset by me not saying anything before I left. Just know I had to do it. Why, you may ask? Well, I’ve conveniently written this blog post to explain my actions. I hope that’s enough because I’m way better at transcribing my feelings on paper than I’ll ever be in person.

If you read my last blog post, you know things have been a little rough in my neck of the woods. I’ve had so many thoughts and feelings swirling around that I might as well be a cone from a generic buffet place (I can’t afford the royalties to name drop, so we’ll call it Yellow Stable). Some of them are good feelings; some of them, not so much. I have some giddy feelings that make me want to listen to Hellogoodbye on repeat. However, the bad feelings were winning out. These were (and still are because depression doesn’t simply go away over night) the feelings of being garbage, a bother, and frankly, not being good enough for anyone. Those are the feelings I have to drown out with “Unpretty” by TLC, and those are (mostly) the feelings I ran away from by going home. 
If you don’t know, here’s exactly what happened: Around 8:00 on Saturday night, my sweet KiKi came over for me to dye her hair. She mentioned driving to the Burne later on, and my gut feeling (which I’m learning to trust more and more) was to go. Faster than you can say Chicken Express or cheap ass movie ticket, I had already cleared it with my boss and the best Pudge sitters this side of the Mason-Dixon. I threw all a bunch of random things in a bag, wheeled my laundry basket out of the comically small space I store it in my bathroom, and got home around 4AM. 

I’ve been searching for the perfect remedy (and with that, I had Jason Mraz stuck in my head for the rest of the century), and I think I may have found it. Granted, things still aren’t perfect. I’m still figuring out some good feelings. I’m still combatting those negative feelings of being a burden. I’m still trying to figure out why IHOP is so damn good after 6PM. The good news is I think I’ve finally gotten back some of the pieces of me (and now, Jason Mraz has been replaced with Ashlee Simpson) I’ve been missing for a bit. 

You see, every single one of my friends has been a beacon of positive encouragement, from sending me the most inspiring texts I’ve ever read to giving me some of the best alcohol-fueled heart to hearts I could ever ask for. If you know me at all though, you know I am as hard-headed as they come, and I have to sort things out on my own. (My deepest apologies to Mr. Beam and Mr. Cuervo.) 

Sometimes, you have to go home to remind yourself of how far you’ve come, despite all those who love you telling you repeatedly. You have to remind yourself of the days you spent writing shitty, angsty poetry while listening to your Zune and how you are no longer afraid to share your writing with the world (sans the shitty, angsty poetry). You have to remind yourself of all the people who broke your heart, from terrible boys to fractured friendships, and how you perservered. You have to remind yourself you no longer work summers at a god forsaken water park serving nachos and listening to The Edge (RIP) and how you currently work in the middle of downtown Austin. You have to remind yourself of who you really are. You aren’t garbage. You aren’t a bother. You DEFINITELY aren’t a blonde. 

You’re the girl who moved to Austin on her 18th birthday. You’re the girl who worked 60-70 hour weeks when you first graduated to pay rent. You’re the girl who worked her way up at an ice cream store. You’re the girl who got promoted in a month and a half at a movie theater. You’re the girl who has an amazing job, the best mom in the world, incredible friends, and loves to write, draw, and podcast. You’re Baillee. And sometimes, you need to be reminded of that. 

Feelings be damned, you are Baillee. That’s it. Plain and simple. No more. No less. Just Baillee. That’s why I needed to go home. I needed to clear my head figure out who I was. The things is though, I already knew. I just needed to be reminded. This trip was me as Jennifer Leigh Cook taking off my glasses aka I’ve been Baillee this entire time, but I needed a metaphorical Freddie Prinze Jr.to help me realize it, and in this case, it happened to be the ol’ Burne. 

Cue “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer.