“If only I knew then what I know now.” I have such mixed feelings about this statement.
For the most part, I avoid saying things like this because hindsight is 20/20. In the majority of cases, I think most people would take the knowledge they have now and use it to positively influence their past if they thought it could lead to a preferable outcome. All the same, we can’t go back in time and alter anything, which renders the whole wishful nature of statements such as these useless…
… yet I still found myself thinking this way when I read over today’s post.
There is a certain degree of detachment for me when I read past writings such as the one below. Although I can vividly recall how I felt in those particular moments, it still feels slightly foreign. This is quite a peculiar position to be in because I never thought my day of freedom would come. I’d been imprisoned against my will by inexplicable sorrow for so long… my current state of being is supremely surreal in comparison.
I’m afraid that I’ve gone and gotten myself into trouble again. Don’t bother sending for help. I fully accept where I’ve landed.
You see, he is the first thing on my mind when I wake up. I start praying for him before I can even get my eyes halfway open.
There used to be a time when I prayed first thing in the morning for the strength to chase down my dreams. I’d pray for the remaining members of my family—my cat too. World peace. More love. Less strife. Answers to questions I can’t answer. I still pray for these things, but I pray for him first. I always pray for him first.
I pray for him to find his rightful place and purpose in this world.
I pray that he lives with more gratitude and passion now than he ever did before.
I pray that he took my nervous ramblings to heart.
I pray that he doesn’t think that I am completely delusional.
Today’s throwback post is an unwelcome reminder of my history with disordered eating. For as long as I can remember I have dealt with cyclical bouts of binge eating and bulimia (with or without some form of purging)—yet another thing I’m not particularly proud of.
I’m sure I will someday talk about how this whole issue got started, but for now, I can confidently say that I am mostly recovered. Anxiety-induced binges are still a problem from time to time, but I am currently doing my very best to offset them by eating normally and losing weight the “right” way.
Life can be such a dizzying enigma.
At the best of times, it can bestow us with beauty and jubilance of poetic proportions. Yet at the worst of times, life’s circumstances can administer lashes so severe that we’re left limping for years. When I was a child, I never could get a firm grasp on the concept of life’s fickle ways. From time to time I would hear people retort, “Life’s not fair”, but it wouldn’t be until much later that I would learn just how true that adage was.
Thinking back to early youth, I now realize just how fortunate I was. With the exception of a few minor hiccups and one major death, I enjoyed a fairly charmed childhood. No major illnesses, no serious injuries, no instances of bullying and no family turmoil. In comparison to many of my schoolmates, I was very lucky. My parents did a terrific job ensuring that I grew up in as peaceful an environment as possible, but perhaps that is just the trouble. Perhaps I was too sheltered, too ignorant of the possibilities that would await me later in life.
I’m finally able to see the finish line. There are only three days left until I can move into my new home.
Gosh, it feels so weird.
Tonight will actually be my final night here in the condo, and I’m surprisingly sad about it. If you would have talked to me back in February when I first arrived out here and told me that I’d end up hating to leave this place, I would have laughed in your face. I remember my first week like it was yesterday: I absolutely hated this place lol. Everything felt foreign. And I don’t mean foreign like “Oh, everything is new and I’m not sure where anything is”, but foreign as if I’d spent my entire life on Pluto—alone.
It took me a ridiculous amount of time to get accustomed to living here, but I’m not entirely sure why. I have moved an absurd amount of times throughout my life, so one would think that I could swap states like it’s nothing. Normally, this would totally be the case. I’ve always jumped at the opportunity to check out a new city and have new adventures, so I thought this move would be a cakewalk. Well, that isn’t exactly how the story went this time around. For the first time ever, moving to a new environment left me feeling vulnerable, out of place and…a little scared.
I haven’t laughed as much or as hard as I did tonight in a long, long time. I missed it.
After the unpleasant event that occurred last weekend, my vibes were totally off this week. I haven’t been nearly as productive as I wanted to be. In addition to going through all kinds of stress (justified or otherwise), my overall physical well-being has been a bit…crap. From time to time, I experience these annoying episodes of not feeling very well. Things have certainly been worse in the past, so I’m extremely grateful that I seem to be getting better overall. However, when things go south, it can be pretty painful and debilitating. Not being able to do the things I would like to do, but am too weak to accomplish tends to make me feel like a worthless loser (lol).
For anyone who deals with any type of chronic illness or ongoing condition, I’m sure someone out there can relate to the frustration I go through. I just want to be productive and happy without being slowed down by a body that prefers to frequently rebel against me, you know? Having gone through this for a few years, I know how important it is for me to consistently focus on things that make me feel good and help me to inject more joy into my life. However, my preoccupation with everyday life has caused me to forget the benefit of laughter.
I’ve been going through a very difficult time recently. Though I don’t particularly wish to get into the full details of why that is (I will more than likely speak on it when I’m feeling up to it), I will say that I have been dealing with issues involving self-esteem and confidence. Some aspects of my life have not been going very well lately, so it’s been a bit challenging to keep a smile on my face and fight the urge to allow a sense of defeat and hopelessness to knock me out of the game completely.
I sincerely apologize if this or any of my recent posts aren’t cheerful. I often feel very self-conscious about posting when I am not feeling my absolute best because I am the kind of person who wears their feelings on their face and in their speech. It always feels as though I will pollute everything I do by writing happy words in a sad tone, so I typically refuse to post when that is the case.
Despite having started this blog to share all aspects of my personal life, my true desire is to connect with and help uplift others. That being said, I wish every post could be nothing but sunshine, rainbows and kittens. However, this post isn’t going to be any of those things. For that, I am very sorry. All the same, I come bearing a very sincere request for all who may stumble upon today’s post and read it: Please think before you speak. You never know what the person you are speaking to is truly going through.
I am the worst blogger ever.
The entire point of me having a personal blog is to share snippets of my everyday life. Meanwhile, drama is unfolding behind the scenes and I’ve been sitting on my butt missing it all! I’ve simply got to do better.
My mind is a mess right now. My emotions are even worse off. I actually feel drunk or otherwise intoxicated even though I haven’t had a sip of liquor in years. Even though I feel a slight disturbance brewing in my stomach region and an overwhelming sense of “WTF have I just done” is washing over me, I believe I have done the right thing, at the right time, for the first time ever. I just drunk texted my ex-fiancé. Well, sorta. Okay, not really.