When I typed that sentence, I had every intention of just using it to open this blog entry. And, while that may be a profound purpose in the life of a sentence, I would hardly call it one of life-changing proportions. After I typed that sentence, however, I just could not move on to the next. It just stood out to me. I read it over and over, and it echoed in my mind. Then, all of a sudden, it hit me. The only potential change of opinion that matters is my own. Not only does it matter.... it is absolutely, positively, and ridiculously necessary. And, if anyone else changes his or her mind about me, maybe that it just how it is meant to be. Maybe this is all exactly how it was meant to be.
As most that know me are aware, the past two years have really thrown me through a loop. To say that my world has been shaken is not an exaggeration. And, I have grown and changed in so many ways during this time, as one would probably expect. Many of these changes, I feel, have been very positive. As a whole, I like to believe that I am a more caring, more mature, and all around better rounded person than I was two years ago. But, below all of this, deep inside by core, I am less of a person than I was. Some days, I wake up with a feeling so empty and draining that I cannot think of a single adjective that would give it justice. It is almost like a blanket of sadness.... so heavy and dark. On these days, I cannot stop thinking about things that I feel guilty about, things I should have done, time I should have spent more wisely... the list goes on and on. I think when you lose so many people in such a short amount of time, you are unable to finish grieving for one person before you have to begin for another. And, all of the feelings and memories become intertwined and tangled. Before you know it, they've built up into massive oceans of feelings that have not been faced. When someone avoids coming to terms with something, it quickly turns into regret. What I have now are tidal waves of regret. Ladies and gentlemen, I am drowning.
When someone imagines drowning, he or she probably pictures being surrounded by darkness, unable to breathe, and having no control over his or her own fate. That is how it is in my nightmares, at least. Whenever someone drowns in a movie, I never see it coming. It always happens so, so fast. But, the victims always put up a fight. They grab on to anything they can and hang on for dear life. That is exactly what people do when metaphorically drowning, too. They find anything that can get them through the day, and they hold onto it with all they've got. It is this very survival technique that has cost me the most, I think. Human beings will go to insane extents to keep their heads above water. And, when it is all said and done, is the survivor ever the same person he or she was when the fight first began?
There is something about hard times that pull people together. Because I have grown so familiar with the way those "bad days" feel, look, and even sound, I can usually tell when someone I love is having a bad day of their own. I see it in their eyes. I hear it in their voices. I have watched them go through the stages of grief at their own paces, and they have each gone about it in their own unique ways. Some people threw themselves into their careers, detaching themselves a little in order to heal. Others clung to others, finding comfort in the company and embrace of friends and family. I heard people pray for God's healing hand. I saw Bibles being opened, verses circled, and encouragement found in the words of the Lord. I heard stories being told, favorite songs being played on iPod's, and laughter bursting out of the mouths of friends. I attended a birthday party for an angel. I saw some drink away their sorrows, searching desperately for something to ease the pain. I saw it all, and for as long as I live, I will never forget the way it has all made me feel. I relive it in my dreams, and I still run away from it in my nightmares.
For me, the hardest part of it all is feeling like I have no control over anything. That being said, I guess it is no secret that the medical issues and other events of the past two years have had an extreme effect on my appearance. As of right now, I am doing a lot better, according to my doctors and loved ones. But, I think that I need to come to terms with the fact that I do have a problem when it comes to my issues with body image. I like to think that I have done a really good job of hiding this from everyone, but those that know me best have not been fooled. While others relied on other things to get through the day, I chose to grasp onto the first thing I encountered that I had control over, which happened to be my weight. For the longest time, I truly did not believe that I had any sort of problem. Because I had been so sick, I had gotten used to eating very small amounts, and my appetite was basically nonexistent. Later, when my appetite began to return, I found myself feeling accomplished for having willpower when I felt hungry. Food is not an enemy to me, but a sign of weakness, I believe. When I am happy, I eat, which makes me feel guilty. Guilt leads to anxiety about gaining weight, which makes me not want to eat. It is a vicious cycle, one of self-loathing and endless criticism in the mirror. The full-length mirror in my bedroom has become both my best friend and my biggest enemy. On good days, it feeds me compliments. On bad days, it emphasizes my flaws, giving me determination to do just a little bit more in order to feel beautiful. Even on the best of days, I am never good enough.... not to the mirror, and not to myself.
The reason I am confessing all of this to the entire world is because I believe I owe it to myself and many others. There have been so many people that I have treated poorly. I have judged people for their appearances more times than I can count. I have laughed at people for their weight. I have made rude, immature, and hurtful remarks to people that did no wrong to me. And, I will never be able to apologize enough for all of the horrible things that I have done in the past. I never understood how much pain a person could carry under his or her appearance. I was too ignorant and childish to stop and think about what could have happened in the lives of others that could have effected the way they carried themselves. The people that have impacted my life the most did so not because of their appearances, but their souls. I deeply regret spending so many years placing so much more importance on the human body than the soul. I am so incredibly human... so incredibly flawed. I cannot see beauty in myself, just like I could not see it in so many others. My entire world is upside down, and the more I learn, the more that I realize that I have a hell of a lot to learn.
A huge part of me wants to smash the long mirror on my bedroom wall with a hammer into hundreds of tiny pieces and let the garbage truck carry my demon away. But, I know that I would feel defeat the second I throw the mirror's remains into the trash can outside. Walking back into the house would feel like walking away from another obstacle that has stood in my path. I don't want to walk away... I want to win. I want to look myself in the face and feel beautiful because of the size of my heart, not the size of my jeans. I do not need a lecture, nor am I fishing for compliments. I am asking for compassion, because I am in over my head. The pleasure I get when I feel the curve of my hip bones and the definition of my ribs is one I do not find with many other things these days. I am unable to cut the ties between beauty and happiness, as the two have always been parallel in my eyes. This is not just an issue of a 22 year old girl feeling pretty. This is my life, and I am clinging to the hope that even I deserve to be happy. I am not whining or pretending that life has treated me unfairly, because to be honest, I probably deserve all that I have gone through. But, I have trouble believing that the people that I love most should have been affected by all of it. I cannot carry that burden with me any longer. When you're drowning, you only have two options: sink or swim, and burdens are like weights on your ankles.
I am not sure whether the expression on my face when I recall the girl I used to be is a smile or a smirk, but I am relieved that I still have a sense of humor about all of it. I used to be so sure of myself, of the world, and of the future. And now, the only thing that I am sure of is that life is precious and far too short, especially when it feels as if it has only just begun.
