I put this as a facebook status sometime last week, and it still holds true. " I'm trying to put into words what I've been thinking... I'm starting to realize the value that certain people hold, and it fills my heart with warm and fuzzy to have these people in my life. I'm also further realizing the value of people who are willing to stick by me through anything; I would not have survived as much as I have without them. Also, I'm appreciating long term friendship, and newer ones that were recently started. Thank you all for being apart of my life! I know I say this a lot, but I mean it every time; I love you all!"
Getting into a bit more detail, I've realized lately just how much value my little sister holds; she has been there in the midst of every little thing I've been through, and my brain was too clouded until recently to truly appreciate just how wonderful she is. I tell her now on a regular basis just how much I do value her, even if I'm not able to put into words just how much she truly does mean to me. I've also been counting my blessings when it comes to some friends I have, a few very lovely ladies who have come out of the cracks of my ruined old life and shown themselves as beacons of light that I've come to depend upon (Kimmi, my very best lady friend ever; Amber, one of my long-time friends who has been on the sidelines trying to help since the breakup and recently took me out to get shitfaced; Hayley, one of my friend's ladies who is very smart and funny and I'm lucky to know her). I'm also meeting a lot of really nice and fun and funny and down to earth people by trying to get back out there in the world. Even friends that I just started talking to again recently for whatever reason are proving to be diamonds in the rough. Why could I not see all of these people for who they are before? Why did it take me being broken and shattered to realize all of this? Life just doesn't make sense sometimes. In any case, I do love and appreciate the people in my life, and can't imagine life without them.
I was looking in the mirror earlier tonight, and I saw something in my reflection that I haven't seen in a very long time: beauty. Like most American women, my viewpoint of myself is clouded by our society. I don't like the fact that I have extra weight on me and don't have the drive to get rid of it. Really, that's my only bitching point about my body: I have extra fat that I don't like at all. Does size really matter that much? Apparently not because I have a sparkling personality and I somehow, magically, attract attention from the male gender. Don't ask me how I do it; until an hour or so ago I couldn't see myself clearly enough to describe myself as beautiful. Pretty, yes. But beautiful? Usually I just snort and say "thank you" when I receive that complement, thinking "you've got to be kidding me" on the inside. I'm actually happy that people don't see me as I do myself sometimes because I think that I wouldn't have ANY friends and no one would be able to love me; I'm my own worst critic, you see. Not that I'm not grateful for the attention of the male species and the love of people; it just shocks me sometimes. Anyway, so I finally see myself as beautiful, and can see what all of the hype is about. Despite the weight, I have a very pretty face, I tend to be bubbly when I'm not sick or in a depressive episode or angry at the world, my eyes are amazing, my smile is equally as amazing, I'm short and fun sized and could fit in your pocket, and I love adventure. Despite the many flaws that I can find within myself on a daily basis if I really wanted to, a man would be damn lucky to have me, and I'll go out on a limb to say that the people that I consider the most amazing people ever in my life as lucky to have me as well.
I spent two years trying to live inside one person's box of ideas on who I was. Honestly it didn't start off that way; I was secure in who I was. Slowly but surely, though, I let him take over and recognized more of him in myself than I did me. Actions and decisions that I made, and words that I said, were more often than not his. That wasn't a very healthy place for me, and I think that he knew it, but didn't want to hurt me any more than I wanted him to. He walked away when he thought he found just cause, and I suppose I should be grateful. If I were still with that person, I don't think I would have grown at all to fit inside my own skin. Hell, I'm still not there yet, but I'm getting there; I'm more comfortable and solid in myself than I've been in a long time. Don't get me wrong, this whole process of heartbreak, hitting rock bottom emotionally, and clawing myself out of a huge pit of despair while trying not to hurt myself was a fucking ridiculous hell that I never want to go through again, but I'm much better for it. I've committed myself to breaking out of the box of conceptions that people have about me; I'm more than a little sweet person. I've got a lot going on in this head of mine, and it's time that I shared and used every bit of it. It's time that I found my own political ideas and become established in my agnostic standing. It's time that I embrace every little personality flaw that I have, and maybe work on a few. Some I know I can't fuckin' change because I've tried to change them before, but others... other's are bendable. It's time that I found my own interests, which I am accomplishing. I just want to be capable of standing on my own in a world where you are, ultimately, alone, despite the people that may become a part of your life. I think I'm finally there, though I may need a little more time to just stand here and smell the orchids. anyway, so, I'm not living in your box. So anything that you're trying to label me with that is contrary to how I see myself is probably going to be tossed into oblivion, along with the many terrible ideas of stories that I've tried to write and bad my little pony drawings.
I've spent a lot of time cleaning my room and reorganizing everything, and honestly I think it's just a ploy to regain some control within my life and completely erase the heartbreaker from my life. I gave him everything that he gave me except the lava lamp because he cannot have my fucking lava lamp; I've wanted one since I was a kid and this thing almost broke and it's a miracle that it still lives. Plus he already got a fucking PS3 that I didn't want him to take anyway, so there. Aywho, I've been reorganizing pretty much everything that can go on a surface and reclaiming both sides of the room as mine and alphabatizing everything because I'm starting to get too OCD and I still don't think I'm done because there are two shelves that still have the same exact stuff on them that they did a few months ago and that just will not stand. Though I was kind of hoping that I could let that go, but it seems that I can't. Or maybe I can. I'm still on the fence about whether or not I want to put forth the effort. Which right now I really just do not. Though I do have the urge to do SOMETHING. Gah, anyway, the point of this paragraph is that I'm reclaiming my space and beginning to love it again.
Okay, well, I'm going to go be eccentric somewhere else and play Harry Potter Lego for the first time in a week.
Love you! Thanks for reading!