Four years ago, I said hello to the blogosphere, not quite sure where this would go or what I would be willing to share. I liked writing, and I knew that it was something I really felt like I needed to take the time to develop. I thought I would write witty posts about the things I was obsessed with, or jazz up the stories about my drunken nights to entertain. I wrote those things, but I also began to write about the boys who would pop up in my life. Some of it was sexscapades, but I also began to write about my heartbreaks, the twisted relationships that, good or bad, were beginning to shape me. I began to pour my soul out every time I took to the keys. Soon, I couldn’t decipher how I really felt until I was able to write about it.
I surprised myself with how much I was willing to share. When I would begin to write, my heart would open, my words didn’t filter, I said things I wouldn’t have the courage to say out loud. I shared my sordid inappropriate, unhealthy, non-relationship with D. It was on this page that I admitted to myself and all of you that I loved D, and it was on this page I finally let go, let him go.
When my life turned dark and twisty, I wrote about my depression. I wrote about going to therapy, and the things I did to work my way out of the dark hole I had found myself in. This blog became a place of self-discovery. Even if I had to learn the same lesson over and over again, I found it cathartic. As friendships crumbled and other grew I could write about it all here. Even if no one was out there reading it, it was the process of writing that mattered. Putting words together, yielding them into something worth reading or that can make people feel holds a certain power.
Over the years I have had moments in my life when it was difficult to find the words. When I lost people I loved to suicide and cancer, the grief was too much, too big to fit on a page. If I am honest, it was something I had to own by myself for a while before I could share it. Putting how I felt about losing my grandfather into a post just made it feel so definite, so much smaller than the feeling that engulfed me. I also couldn’t bring myself to write about anything else, until I wrote about such a huge moment I couldn’t write about what else was happening in my life either.
My self-image, my confidence in who I am has faltered over the years. It’s a struggle I have had since I was young, and it took a lot to share that with all of you, to write about eating disorders, bullying, and my own self-hatred. I felt it was important, to share my struggles in case someone else might be going through something similar. Something I have learned is, for people like me, loving yourself is a daily battle. You have to take the world one day at a time. Body image is much more of an inward struggle than an outward one.
I am a mess. I have always been a mess, but after 4 years of writing about all the moments that contribute to the making of me, I am a much more self-aware mess.
Who am I now? I am a strong Southern woman who is fastly approaching 29 (Eeek, panic!). I work very hard at a job I like, even when it stresses me out to the point of tears (about once a week). My family and friends are the most important thing in my life. I would do anything for the people I care about, I mean like the person you call if you had a dead body to get rid of type of friend. I make mistakes, lots of them, especially where men are concerned. I want people to like me, a habit that I am trying desperately to break, but it is true I like to be liked. I am not particularly funny, at least not on purpose. I am a huge nerd! I fangirl over all the things: Doctor Who, Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, all the superhero shows. That is probably because I am passionate, I love with all that I am, I feel very deeply. All I want is what I what I think most people want out of life: to be happy and to be loved.
I want to say thank you for reading my melodramatic ramblings. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions over the past four years, and I appreciate you taking the time to read what I have to say, and for allowing me to find my voice.
