It can be said that I am a hopeless romantic. I love love and chase the rush of emotions that encompass love, of all kinds. Having fortunately been in love, I can honestly say it's one of the most magical feelings. It's special, overwhelming, hopefully real, and yes, it can even sometimes be what you see in the movies. Call me sentimental, but it's true. If you're lucky, it's nothing like the movies as it's surprising, unexpected, and entirely new and yours. It's better than the movies because even the movie roll wouldn't have captured it right, but you do.
Having been in such a serious relationship, I focused all of that love on someone else, forgetting the most important person in my life - me. That may sound selfish, but it's true and needs to be said. Without me, I don't have my life, or the ability to feel and give love. I forgot that it was far more important to love myself first, and then love someone else later. As cliche as all of this might add up to be, or as repetitive as it might sound, I learned the hard way in needing to love yourself firstand most. I've never wanted the opportunity to express these emotions and my experience until I realized, physically and emotionally, just how important this was for me to finally figure out. I in no way blame others for my own struggles - I blame myself for ignoring them. I blame others for contributing unnecessary stress to my life and ignoring the person I truly am. They should enhance it with new happiness, support, love and laughter instead.
It's not always blue skies and rainbows, but it shouldn't always be stormy skies and rainy days.
I entered my Freshman year of college relaxed, carefree, and someone who could sit and eat an entire box of donuts, cookies, cake, you name it. Seriously, ask my Freshman year roommate, we baked till we dropped, or ordered froyo for delivery, and made hot pockets like it was nobody business. While I'm a picky eater, I've always loved food and the gratifying feeling of eating one of the best damn donuts or bowls of pasta you could ever feast your eyes on, but then dreading the thought of the last bite because, suddenly, it's gone. Yet as the school year flew by, something changed; I changed and I ignored all of these changes for nearly a year and a half because I was focused on other people rather than myself.
With this constant focus and attention on others, I forgot about me. I stopped worrying and caring for me. I began to criticize myself because I wasn't loving myself instead. Others were contributing to my anxieties, worrisome thoughts, and fears. I was so terrified of the things I could lose, that I was losing myself in the process. Holding onto feelings, memories, places, and experiences that I needed to let go of. I was anxious enough and social media certainly wasn't helping either;
Why do I have that? Why don't I have that? Why don't I look like her?
Each question felt like a stab wound. I was carrying weights on my shoulders that I simply couldn't bare to hold. I know I'm not special in feeling this. Boys, girls, women, and men all go through these emotions at some point in their lives, or continue to. However, it's how these boys, girls, women and men chose to handle this weight that makes all of the difference.
It created an unbearable anxiety in me that I couldn't control. My confidence and comfort was slipping through my finger tips. I was ignoring all of this for the sake of others and shutting myself out of experiences and people. I focused my attention on those who weren't worthy of my attention; those who only further contributed to anxieties, fears, doubts and insecurities on many different levels and scenarios. I poured my heart and soul into those who placed their insecurities onto me and couldn't bare to support me in any real sense of the word.
If I couldn't even handle my own demons, how could I handle yours?
My anxieties led to eating less,
and less,
and less,
and far less.
The nervous pit in your stomach that makes you lose your appetite was consistent and constant. It was unbearable, and at times, it was painful. Eating wasn't enjoyable, or fun, or gratifying like taking that big bite of the most delicious donut you've ever had in your life. It wasn't that insta-worthy picture of showing everyone that you just had the most beautiful, delicious, picture worthy meal of your life and they should all be jealous that it's in your tummy. It became less of a priority.
I was left with skin, bone, a heart, and brain. Except, I was ignoring my brain and giving out too much of my heart. I felt unhealthy, I looked unhealthy, but I'll admit, I enjoyed it for a while. There's nothing like being told how tiny, petite and skinny you are. I can't even begin to unpack how wrong that statement sounds and truly is. Or how wrong it was to hear someone tell me, "you're fine, you look amazing," when I began to peel back the layers of my concern. Others were concerned, and honestly disgusted with what they saw. I don't blame them. It was gross. I felt gross, weak, ashamed, and scared. Yet, I was falsely confident. I was loving myself for all of the wrong reasons, and still putting all of these anxieties and negative influences in my life on the back burner.
I stood on the scales seeing the weight go from 3 digit numbers to 2 digit numbers in a matter of weeks. It felt like rock bottom. The feminist praising, self-love promoting girl wasn't actually practicing what she preached. It was fraudulent.
I missed the old me in every sense of the word. My friends missed the old me and my new friends didn't even really know therealme. I dreaded having to text my mom a laundry list of foods I ate that day because she was scared I flat out wasn't. I hated having my sister look at me with worrisome eyes telling me I really need to eat more and put on a few pounds. I hated the comments that were thrown out of concern. I hated it because they were all true - I didn't want others to worry, but I didn't know how to explain myself either.
It was one day as I got undressed to shower; I stood in front of my mirror and took in the view. Except, the view didn't involve a beautiful overlook of still mountains where you can hear and feel your own heartbeat because it's so peaceful, or see the waves crash against the glistening sand on a loop. It wasn't the new view I had been praising and appreciating. It was bone accompanied with tired eyes that were unfriendly and unfamiliar. It was the tip of the iceberg, among other things, that I realized changes needed to be made in my life. To cut out the negative people. The one's who aren't helping you, unwilling to support you, ignoring the unhealthy habits and those who are truly making you anxious. The ones who contribute to constantly having that nervous pit in your stomach that make you indifferent.
Ridding myself of these people and feelings was the most liberating and maturing experience. It was better than love, because I really did have that love - for me. It was all for myself, for the people who deserved it, earned it, and for those who loved me unconditionally. I prioritized my self, my needs, my wants, and my goals.
I didn't start wearing less, but I started going out more.
My health followed suit. In a matter of weeks time my body was treading back to normal. I felt healthy, I looked healthy, and most importantly, I was healthy. I could finally practice what I preached and not feel guilty. I loved myself, my life, my friends, my experiences, my city - my everything. I could shove that delicious donut in my face and have that gratifying moment of consumption. I could, and would, even reach back for another one, too.
Never be afraid to pick yourself. It’s not selfish, it’s not wrong, and it’s not cruel. You have one life, with no reset button. Love yourself first, and love someone later. When all you do is worry about what you could lose, you miss out on what you could have instead. You can, and will, love far more fiercely if you already know how to love someone — you.
This love and zest for my life and experience was far better than any movie magic I could watch, simply because it was actually mine.