My childhood? The people who left me? The anger, hatred and desire for revenge that's always there, every day, every night, in every person I meet the suspicion that they too will leave. I can't write about that - bare my soul on the page for some marker to shred to pieces and award me a 2:2 for some cliched story about a traumatic childhood. Didn't we all have one?
And reading back this blog, all I can see is some pathetic, drunken girl wandering from man to man looking for some form of self-transcendence and then running away sober in the morning desperate to purge myself of the filth, and the sadness. I've drifted so far. The year I began this blog I was so focused, 800 calories a day or less. That was all that mattered. Now I'm in recovery, I sometimes go to the gym, I occasionally add up the calories in everything I eat but then I don't stress. I go to sleep at night because I don't have hunger cramps and I'm on track to graduate this year. I think when I decided to get better, I had to lose part of me. It was the exchange - life for creativity. A fair exchange. I don't write any more. I don't take photos. I don't explore or dream. I gave up on the dream of being a model. I gave up on being an actress. Gave up on being a journalist. Gave up on going into broadcasting. Gave up on being 50kg.
It's my finals in a few months. There is no way I'm going to sacrifice the chance of getting a first to be thin. I nearly gave up going to university to achieve that - and then I realised I'd be stuck at home with my mum for the next ten years or worse, be in a hospital with people thinner than me making me feel like even more of a failure. So I know that it was worth it. I really do.
I just wish I could still write. And dream a bit, too.
You are better for it. You still dream, they are just different dreams
ReplyDeleteTHIS. THIS.
ReplyDeleteI feel this.
We give up on our dreams thinking that it's the right thing to do. But then comes regret. Because we weren't able to find any new dreams, because we feel like we've changed and don't know if it's for better or worse, and because we don't know if we will ever be able to dream again. And we don't know if we did the right thing.
ReplyDeleteGreat post!!
ReplyDeleteAs cliche this sounds, in a blink of an eye your twenties are gone. The only memory of it, is complete regret. I wish I loved me back then. I wasted so many great years hating myself. I was never skinny enough and for sure never pretty enough. BUt when I look at pictures of myself I am in awed of how beautiful I was then. The same as you, I lived in fear of being abandoned and cheated. As a result I cheated before being cheated. I walked out on the men I loved before I was abandoned. Regret so much regret useless regret. The past cannot be changed the present is the only chance to do things right. Good luck on your journey to recovery.
It is true sometimes we feel most creative when we are in pain or struggling with the drama that surrounds us. I do not think it means you have loose your creativity though by giving up that life.
ReplyDeleteYou have all those experiences to draw from. You can empathize with people you meet, you can sympathize with people and still use your creativity to draw awareness to those still struggling with the things you conquered.
So the cowards, not the dreamers, give up endlessly on real life. The difference is that cowards stay in trance forever, while dreamers DO keep on fighting for their dreams. Now it's time for you to own your story, starring proudly all the forthcoming chapters . Choose the way you want to get to the final line, which I know would read something like: 'It was all worth it,all I've gone through just made this triumph bigger...'
ReplyDeleteI'm sure you're more than this. God gave you life and gave you grace. With a little of your will, everything will be just fine.
Erandi
Ugh, I know what you're talking about. I hate to write a paper for college as well :L
ReplyDeleteI followed, support
http://mylittlebones.blogspot.com/
You're still writing here, aren't you? What you wrote, about giving up and how you feel like a cliche-channel that. Channel that and write a ten thousand page novel or something. That was really metaphorically written, honestly.
ReplyDeletePS...you didn't give up a part of yourself when you recovered. You gave up the dead part. Does that make sense? I hope so. I'm tired, haha.