I’m not okay.

I’m not okay.
When people asked me, “How are you?” I responded with, “Not good. Not bad. I’m just okay.”
That was my default response for a very, very long time.
More than I liked it to be.
But, I’m not okay anymore.
I’m. Not. Okay. Anymore.
I don’t know what emotion is sufficient enough to describe the in-between process of
mourning and growing,
not being quite there yet, but feeling so accomplished,
things falling into place and being stuck in ambiguity
existing all at the same time while loving myself wholeheartedly.
What emotion is that?
Whatever it may be it’s unsettling, but in a good way.
I’m not doing this blog post any justice because I find myself taking my own breath away and forgetting to blink at times.
I’m not okay.
I’m more than okay.
Dare I say I’m happy, but even that feeling wouldn’t be enough to illustrate the carousel in my mind.
I’ll try to explain myself anyway.
I’m simply strutting this world like it’s my runway
with six-inch heels that don’t fit
causing me to fall ever so gracefully
while sharing my ear piercing laugh
only to change into another dress and
boots that are made for walking
to a rhythm that allows me to breathe in each epiphany
and showcase how bright my soul shines through my dark brown eyes.
I’m not okay
and I’m so thankful for that.