Dear Reader and My Younger Self:
Apologies for the inconsistent blogging.
A relationship I was in just ended because we’re moving to different countries.
I don’t really know how I felt about him because we weren’t together for very long, but I liked how I was starting to feel. I felt like I was both floating and grounded when he was there. I would light up whenever he came into the room. His arms made me feel safe and his hands made me feel connected. He was just such a genuinely good, kind, and respectful person. Those don’t come along everyday.
I liked who I was when I was around him.
I feel like he let my better self shine through. He let me want to take care of myself and want to grow. He let me let down my hair and laugh, really laugh. He let me soften, let go, and trust. He let me go on adventures and be spontaneous. He let me stop disparaging myself out loud and apologizing for things I shouldn’t. He let me see that he wasn’t “letting” me do anything.
He was the kind of person I wish I could have been.
He spent his childhood outdoors with friends and excelling at school while I spent mine not eating or binge eating or throwing up or riding an exercise bike wishing it was over already or in treatment centers or unable to get out of bed or crying in my closet wishing I was dead or with my head buried in magazines to make myself acceptable or watching TV to distract myself from my life or binge drinking until blackout. All that wasted time and energy and brain space. Think of all the books I could have read, trails I could have hiked, camping trips I could have gone on, classes I could have taken, people I could have met, places I could have traveled to, words I could have written.
He said I can still be the person I want to be. I’m not dead yet.
But getting out of bed is so hard. I just want to stay here and cry and feel sorry for myself because of the cards I was dealt. And because he’s not here anymore.
In reality, what I’ve been given is but a tiny part of how my life has turned out.
The major contributing factor is what I do with what I’ve been given. I take it for granted, I’m ungrateful, I doubt myself, I waste my energy on self-defeating thoughts, I engage in behaviors I know are unhealthy, and I don’t take care of myself. I have come a long way in that regard, but I still can do so much more. Awareness may be the first step, but I’ve been there for a while and I need to move forward.
This blog needs to happen.
I need this. I want to write letters to my past self because she still has her head buried in a magazine or a toilet rather than in a book or an adventure. I can still move forward and become this new person without her, but I want to bring my old self with me. I don’t want to leave her alone crying in her closet wishing she was “brave” enough to kill herself.