Just Keep Swimming.

If you’ve ever felt an ounce of sadness, or stress, or fear, write about it. Tear the cap off a pen, and spill some ink knowing with each motion of your hand, you’re one step closer to mending your wounds. Words are my most favorite tools. Strung correctly, their punch is unbelievably powerful. They bite, cut, soothe, heal. They are the Neosporin for my boo-boos.

Last July, after three years, I chose to end an unhealthy relationship. This choice, this conscious decision to voluntarily terminate my partnership, was heavy. But not nearly as heavy as my unhappiness. I needed to relieve myself of its weight, and so despite my overwhelming fear, I did. Facing loneliness, loss, and total uncertainty, I sacked up and nipped it. To lose love, that is one of life’s greatest hurts.

“This life change is overwhelming and completely terrifying. I understand this sense of loss and being lost will fade as I learn to navigate my loneliness. I have a lot of fears, and even more questions, but until then I’ll just keep swimming.”

—Just Keep Swimming, 10.1.13

Fast-forward two months, my ability to cope was failing. I was pissed, and sad, and frustrated. After two long-term relationships, I hadn’t been single since I was 17 years old. I was a child then. At 24, I’m still a child, but with the knowledge of a college graduate, a big-girl job, and a salary. Unsure of how to adequately cope with my singularity, I broke out an empty hand-bound book I’d created in college, ripped the cap off a fine-point black Sharpie, and tore through its pages with the rage of an angry ex-wife.

Writing gave me solace.

Precisely 365 days ago, I penned “Just Keep Swimming” on the front page of my journal with the hope that upon its filling, I would grow infinitely stronger, and infinitely wiser. One year later, I’ve gained an overwhelming sense of self-respect, and the strength of both my head and my heart knows no bounds. I cannot adequately describe the peace this book has provided. I am the most whole a human could possibly feel. This is my doing.

While the contents of said handwritten masterpiece are filled with unimaginable empowerment, growth and wisdom, they also contain enough dirty laundry and gut-busting tales of woe to set your cheeks ablaze, and make you piss yourself. Those stories will remain mine, and only mine.

Cue So Vicarious, my digital supplement to “Just Keep Swimming,” and wholly approved for public consumption. After one year of healing through ink, I’m expanding my arsenal of weapons of mass creation to include, among others, both pen and keys. This space will be my playground for my words, and my first-person recollection of living. Follow along as I, like you, tackle life head-on, learning how best to navigate its highs, lows and in-betweens. Quite frankly, I do some cool shit. This will be fun.

Welcome to living so vicariously through me.

Now, onward.