It’s somehow December now, and I’m still kicking. Maybe it was because I’ve been having more good days than bad recently or because I desperately want to reconnect with my roots or because I finally feel like my body is my own again, but regardless, I woke up today and decided I needed to write something. I needed to put my thoughts somewhere again.
I’m sick at the moment. (A common cold, but I’m a baby). And I aggravated an old injury, so I’ll spend most of today in bed.
I want to say that I’m lucky to be here, but I think I’ve said that a lot. My ‘being here’ is not dependant on luck, although I do trust in the universe. No, I think that I made this happen. I dug myself into a grave and wrestled my way back out of it over and over. My happiness cannot just be dependant on luck.
I switched jobs and now work for a company called 305 Fitness. They have studios in 3 cities, Boston being the newest. I’m an Assistant Studio Manager and I do a lot of marketing and I, weirdly, love it. 305 teaches cardio hip-hop dance classes, which sound intimidating, but aren’t. It’s the first time I have ever found a fitness studio that makes me feel good about my body every single step of the way. And that’s huge for me. For my body dysmorphia and self-care, feeling sexy is massive. It’s why I post so many risqué photos on instagram and why I like to send nudes: it’s a way to remind myself that I am sexy and strong and beautiful, even when I feel I am not.
This post is more flowery than my usual ones, but what it comes down to is this: my senior year of high school someone said to me “if you don’t love yourself, how the fuck are you gonna learn to love anyone else?” And I finally do feel like I’ve learned to love myself. Or at least I have a roadmap. I’ve never wanted to invest too much of myself in finding a relationship or relying on another person, but life is lonely and I’m tired of fucking around.
At dinner two nights ago, Mackenzie and Sophie, two of my best friends, said to me, “You have changed so much. You’re so different than who you were 6 months ago.” And they’re right. I am. I’m more settled, maybe? Or less stressed. My desire to have it all together is long gone. And I am exhausted from spending so much of my life telling myself I feel nothing.
I’m going back to Phoenix in a week from tomorrow. My usual eagerness to go back to the desert is coupled by a level of homesickness I didn’t know was possible. I stare at these tiny cactus lights I’ve hung in my room every single night and count down the days like I did when I was little. I want to look at the city in the same way I now look at myself.