Sometimes I go back and read through my old, old, old blog posts. Or even go back and read through my old secret blog that I started years ago because putting literal pen to paper was too hard for me. Sometimes I realize how much my writing, my blogging, has changed.
I used to ramble, I think, kind of like how I am now. I used to ramble a lot. There wasn’t as much of a story, but my thoughts were always there. Or at least, I hope they were. I think it’s easier to write like that, sometimes. Sometimes it’s easier to ramble.
I’ve been sick for almost a week and I am so impatient to get well. I know that I’m impatient because every moment I feel just a little better, I push it too far. I tend to push things too far.
I talk about myself a lot, which I’m trying to be okay with. I talk about my instagram and my blog and what I don’t let myself eat. I talk about how I’m promoting myself, how I’m creating a brand. And I watch my friends roll their eyes because why would you even want to do that? But I do. I want to do that.
Sometimes I think about my depression or my anxiety or my quirky-kind-of-OCD and I wonder if I’m making all of it up. I wonder if I’m even allowed to feel those things, because I know exactly how fortunate I am. But I would never fault someone else for feeling those things, so why hold myself to a different standard?
Alex asked me the other day if I hold him to a different standard than I hold other people, and I said yes, because the truth is I do. I expect him to be better than others. And that might be unfair, but we’ve chosen to spend our lives together, so I think it’s okay to have certain exclusive expectations. Alex says I am the most compassionate woman he has ever met, and I am starting to believe him simply because he has actually seen my worst sides. I am so mean when I want to be.
I have a deep down fear that my marriage (not current, because I don’t have one) will not be as successful as my parents’ is, which might sound bizarre, but it’s possibly the only shoes I want to fill. So I’m working on being a more open partner, a kinder one, who is honest and who doesn’t build walls. I think I’m beginning to understand what it is to commit and love, and that love is not enough. Love is the beginning but being willing to grow and change with someone else takes trust. I want to do that.
My thought jump around in my mind, but that’s okay. This isn’t the most eloquent post, but that’s okay too. I continually have to remind myself that it’s okay to take days off or to feel real emotions or to skip a workout or to just be. I continually have to remind myself that it is, or will be, okay.
My point is, I’ve grown since my blog first started, or since I first started writing. My style has changed drastically (although this post is a fun little look into how I used to blog.), and my thoughts have too. When I first began blogging, I wasn’t sure what this would become or if I wanted people to read it at all. And now, I’m flattered when people mention that they follow along, I promote myself shamelessly, and most importantly, I am so so SO much more sure in who I am as a person. I’m sure that in a few more years, I’ll look back and laugh at myself. But for now, this is good. I am good.
Here’s to being here.