More of this Journey Stuff I Keep Rambling About

"Know that you can start late, look different, be uncertain, and still succeed."
-Misty Copeland

I saw this on Tumblr literally about 2 minutes ago, if that. I didn't know I needed to hear that, but I did.

I had just gotten off the scale, weighing myself against my better judgement. I was discouraged by the number, but was trying not to be too upset because progress doesn't happen immediately. It takes time.

I should have gotten a handle on my weight years ago. I can't really answer why I didn't. It wasn't that I didn't care, but I just didn't have the motivation to change? Maybe it was my depression speaking. Or maybe I really just didn't care. I wasn't bullied for my weight in high school per se, although I know I was one of the undesirables, in terms of the dating pool. That didn't really bother me too much, though. I didn't want to be with someone that was with me only because I was attractive. Being overweight weeded out some of the shallowness.

It didn't start to really bother me until my freshman year of college. I realized how much I hated my body. I wanted to learn to love myself, even as a fat individual. I was inspired by women I followed on Tumblr that were my size and loved themselves. I wanted to be able to show myself and my body that kind of kindness.

I didn't start to work out or anything. I just wanted to work on the mental aspect of loving myself. I figured taking care of my body would come once I figured put how to love myself as I was. I didn't want to rush the process of change.

When I dated my ex, sophomore year of college, all that changed. Comments, dirty looks, manipulating me in starving myself and exercising for hours tore down every inch of progress I'd made. I have never hated myself more than when I was dating him.

And then that ended. And I started to rebuild from a new square 1. A square 1 that was so much lower than the square 1 I started at freshman year. But that was okay.

When I started dating Ryan, we talked about the weight issue. He said that he liked me as I was then, but he didn't want me to suffer from health complications later on. He wanted to work out with me to help me take care of my body. For the first few months of us dating, I said I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready for the kind of pressure that working out and eating better would put on me and my new relationship. I didn't want a repeat of my previous relationship.

But then. In March, I remember looking at myself in the mirror and feeling pretty. As I was. All x amount of pounds of me felt pretty. I felt as though I were looking at a new person and I could see past all the fat, the double chin, the big tummy, the manatee thighs...I could see myself, body and soul connected for the first time.

I was ready to start taking care of my body the way it deserved.

It has been a rough ride. I lost 9 pounds in the first month, and then fell apart when my mental illness creeped back in and finals approached. I've since gained the weight back, but that's okay. I'm starting again. Another quote I saw today said, "It's okay to rest, so long as you do not quit."

I, of course, am still a work in progress. I still have days where I look at the mirror and go "ew", but that's okay. I am on a journey and journies aren't linear. There are ups and downs and that's okay.

Just because I waited until now to start losing weight doesn't mean I can't.  Just because I waited until I was nearly 21 to start loving myself does not mean I can't learn to love myself. I can.

And I will.

The Sky Presents: Feeling Human Again

I was riding in the passenger seat of Ryan's car yesterday evening. We were driving back from dinner at his parents' house.

I have an adoration for the sky. It makes me feel things. I'm not exactly sure how to explain what it makes me feel; I just know that it makes me feel.

The sky was beautiful last night. The sun was setting and there were colored clouds everywhere. In the east, they were purple and pink, highlighted by the blue sky. The closer to the sun they got, the more orange and red they became.

I felt as though the sun was piercing through my soul with this warm light, straight through my chest. It was as though it and I were connected.

I feel things very intensely, but in the last few years, I've felt more intense feelings or sadness, fear, and anger than I have of more positive feelings. Yes, I do feel happiness at times, but I also feel negative feelings regularly. I think the main reason for this is the fact that I have a mental illness that very negatively affects my life and how I perceive things.

But the sun made me feel, not happiness, exactly, but it just made me feel human again. It was a reminder that I am not some sad, terrified, sometimes unreal creature sentenced to a life of misery. It's okay to feel those things, but it was a reminder that life goes on. Things get better. All of those cliche sayings that are actually true. I'm allowed to feel sadness, anger, and fear, but those aren't the only things in my life to concentrate on. I think that true happiness starts within oneself, and one day I'd like to achieve a fuller feeling of acceptance with my life. I've been feeling a lot of "why me?!" this year, and general negativity surrounding my self image. I want to work through that. I want to feel satisfied with my life, even if it means living with a mental illness that may never go away.

And I think part of that process is starting to feel human again.

Presenting: The Beginning of a Novel

So, remember that post I made about two weeks ago about me starting to write a novel?
I was just looking for the plot?

Well, I had a dream about a week ago. It was a scene from the end of my novel. I have my storyline.

I started to write out the scene from my dream. I guess I'm working a little backwards.

My original idea about Nemmy Barren stealing the sun remains true. It's just going to be a different sun than the one you'd expect it to be.

Coming Back From Destruction: Regrowth

I saw this picture a long time ago (several years, at least) on Tumblr. It spoke to me on such a deep level, my relationship with this quote going further than just a quote about my body.

I grew up under the teaching that my body is a temple and should be treated like one. But temples do not rebuild themselves. Temples are not living, breathing entities. Temples can be beautiful and sacred, but it cannot save itself from destruction. Temples are built by others and are torn down by others and rebuilt by others.

I am not a temple because others do not rebuild me. I rebuild myself. With the support of others, of course, but it isn't them that does the saving. I save myself.

Between my disorder, several toxic relationships, and my struggle with self love, it is very important to me that I take responsibility for my happiness, my sanity, and my sense of peace.

Whatever happens, I will come back. I cannot be so utterly ruined or desecrated that I cannot regrow. When I began to see the damage that my last relationship did to me and how it was affecting my new one, I thought I was ruined. He did not ruin me, though. I am not ruined, but healing. I am simply regrowing.

Poetry Attempt: When You Finally Get Away From Him

He shoves doubt down her throat
Only to kiss it out of her
Anger
Then kindness
Then anger again
A circle that only ends when she destroys herself trying to survive
She stands herself up using crutches of determination not to do the wrong thing again
But she is so tired
Her resolve fades
Her eyes close
Then suddenly
Light.

Going to Mass: Being on the Fence of a Journey I've Already Started

I went to Mass with Ryan today. I have mixed feelings about the experience.

It was overall a well organized Mass. Everything flowed smoothly. The music was nice, although the sermon was long and kind of boring with some humor mixed in. It was one of those sermons that was well-thought out, but all I remember from it is something about wheat being more substantial than rice. It didn't impact me in any way, and based on the dozing adults around me, that seemed to be a common thing. Perhaps I just wasn't listening hard enough. But where is the line between searching so much for something that I find nothing and waiting for the message to find me? It was a nice Mass, but I didn't feel home there like I do when I go to my family's church.

I feel like I'm searching so hard for someone to be there to take care of me. Someone safe. Someone that can embrace all of me in one hug and shield me from the horrors of the world.

After thinking about this and thinking back on experiences that I've had in my life, I think this comes down to a trust--and in some ways, control--issue. I am a person to trust easily, but once my trust is broken, it is hard to regain. For me, a journey back to Christianity is definitely a possible thing, but it's going to take a long time and a lot of work and a lot of baby steps. I'm having to start over completely with a relationship that I broke off long ago. I feel like a dog that has been abused and beaten, When presented with help, the dog desperately wants the food that is being presented, but distrusts the hand that holds it. I am afraid of being let down again, of being hurt again, of being alone again. I am afraid to believe in someone that may not even be real. There's the argument that if it's not going to hurt anyone, then does it really matter? But I don't want to invest my life in a sand castle, that will disappear with water.

I think the first baby step to journeying back to Christianity is coming to terms with the idea that there is a God. I don't know Him yet and we haven't spoken, but that's all in good time. I don't want to rush this process, because that will only result in disaster. I need to take it one step at a time. This is not only a learning to trust process; it's a healing process. It's taking all of my leftover hurt from the past, and letting it heal.

Honestly, I'm still on the fence about this entire process. Do I really want to go this route? I don't know yet. But a part of me just feels so empty and afraid.

I need to try.