Today makes one week. I want to take a moment to pause and think about what I have discovered so far. I have reflected on some aspects that I knew existed before, and some new ones. I knew I was textbook; I didn't fully realize my cycle of buying and purging. And, as I mentioned before, the process is the most amazing thing about this whole experience. I am finding myself being much more aware of myself and my actions during the day. This is really something since I took a class recently that was ALL about being aware and in the moment. And while it increased my awareness some, it was nothing like this. I guess sometimes I have to do it my own way.
I have found it surprisingly easy to find an hour a day to sit down and write. This is incredible. I have spent years, literally years, making excuses for things like exercising, cleaning and making time for family members because I didn't feel as if I had enough time. The fact that I have made an hour a night commitment to this blog makes me realize that I am really just making excuses. On the same note, it makes me very excited to realize that I can find the time to do some of this stuff I beat myself up for not doing. I guess I just had to find this out in my own way.
The absolute most amazing thing about this week is that I have realized something big. Really big. I am a writer. I enjoy writing. This is big for a few reasons. Let me take you back to my teenage years...I spent time in counseling. Lots of time in counseling (I am ok saying that now, wasn't always). And all the counselors I saw, and the one I saw that really worked, all suggested to me that I get my feelings out in a journal. So I tried, and tried, and tried. And always felt really stupid telling a blank piece of paper about my day. And I felt stupid because I must have not been doing it right because it wasn't working the way they said it would (yes, that being right stuff goes WAY back). So I quit journaling. Fast forward to grad school. Holy cow, talk about writing. And I always told myself I hated writing, that it was a necessary evil, a means to my preferred end. Which brings us to the present moment where I decide to write for 20 days straight! That was really unlike me. I can't put my finger on why I am enjoying this so much, why I really like being a writer all of a sudden. The only thing I can think of is that I have chosen to write the way I want to, not how a counselor or professor wants me to. I guess I had to find my own way to loving writing.
One week in, and I am in a state of awareness and discovery. I can't wait to see what the next 14 days bring. The only thing certain is that it will bring me to my 30th birthday. I have a pretty good feeling it is also going to bring me to a higher understanding of myself, but only if I do it my way.
1. I am a rightionist who is striving to wing it every once in a while.
2. I am inspired by others; I am on this earth to relate to others. I am a social worker.
3. I love stuff, until it turns to shit.
4. I am aware of extraordinary growth, even on ordinary days.
5. I embrace change, if it's my idea.
6. I am willing to commit to the smaller stuff; I will find strength in pain.
7. I have to find my own way. I have found my way to loving writing, and am on my way to loving myself.