Today Is Evaluation Day. The Key Word Being Value. Do You Have Any?

I haven't written anything here in a while, and honestly it's because I haven't really had anything to say. Which is weird for me, because I ALWAYS have something to say.

Then I got to thinking, maybe it's good I couldn't think of anything.  Maybe it means that I am moving on - moving forward.  Maybe my heart is mending itself.... which is partially why I haven't been writing: I am definitely on the mend.  I have been feeling better about myself, about my body, about who I am as a person; but that's not the whole story.  I've really begun to ask myself: how much of my self-worth comes from within and how much I base it on other people?

Let me explain, for the month up until spring break I was going to the gym five days a week with a friend of mine that is incredibly fit.  She was, and still is, running me through ab workouts, leg workouts, bike workouts, etc. She's like my own personal trainer and I'm finally feeling good about myself again.  Don't get me wrong, what I burn in calories, I make up for in beer consumption, so I have lost ZERO pounds.  But I'm feeling good and that's what matters.

See, that's where I question myself.  Do I feel good because the exercise is my way of releasing stress or accomplishing something? Sort of.  I definitely don't find exercise - cardio or otherwise - therapeutic at all.  That whole "running is my escape" mantra is awesome for some people, unfortunately I don't fall into that category.  So I guess only half of my reason for working out is that it makes me feel good physically... so what else?

The problem is that sometimes I catch myself doing things because it's how I want to be seen by others.  I want other people to see me as as fit as my friend, thus, I am working out with my friend.  Is that the worst thing in the world?  Absolutely not.  Any motivation can be considered good motivation as long as it's not hurting anyone.  But still, something about that irks me.

But it's not just that I want to be seen in a certain way, it's that I feel desperate for the acceptance of others.  I know I'm not alone in saying that I wish I had more friends; I feel like everyone does, and if you don't you're lying... or maybe you're not.  Maybe some people are perfectly content with the number of people that they wave to when they walk across campus, or how many different pregames they are invited to on a saturday night. And to them, I guess, kudos! But I want everyone to like me, which is clearly never going to be possible, but for some reason I'm still that girl at the bar complimenting everyone's shirt and trying to remember everyone's major, or life plans, or dog's name --  and it's not a matter of acting fake because I'm truly not.  I think I just like being liked! But sometimes I wish I could just be more content.  Like "you don't have to be friends with the girl washing her hand's in the bathroom, Self, just let her rinse them in peace." But I can't, and I don't know why.... and worse than that, I can't decide if it's a good thing or a bad thing - a virtue or an annoying flaw - because trying to be friends with people is something I like about myself, but I find it annoying about myself at the same time.

Annnnnd finally, why do I feel like I need every guy to want to make out with me?  It's possibly one of the things about myself that annoys me the most.  For the past two years I prided myself on being that girl who never went out prowling for guys.  I was the girl ready to drink beer and hang out with my friends, never worried about if the guy across the room thought I was pretty.  Now, that's so far from how I act I can't stand it.  I'm falling into the typical college girl trap and I hate it, but I clearly don't hate it that much because I'm still doing it.  I'm walking into bars, scanning the room for the cute guy I kissed last week, the boy from my Tuesday - Thursday class that sits across the room, or the guy who only gives me the time of day when there isn't a new sneaker being released the next day (weird non-relatable reference, sorry). But that's just my whole point, why am I so concerned about what they think of me?  They barely even know me!  Most of the guys I've made out with in the past three months haven't known me at all, but I'm so desperate to make them want to kiss me.  What is that?  That, my friends, is how girls mend their hearts.

I'm not pathetic, I'm NORMAL.  When you're heart is broken because someone doesn't want to be with you anymore, that's a terrible feeling.  It felt like something was wrong with me.  Maybe I'm not pretty enough, or nice enough, or blah blah blah... and I don't have his approval, so I've been looking elsewhere.  A lot of girls do it, and honestly, I think it's okay!  Even if my motivation for going to the gym is flawed, I'm going!  And if I'm taking extra time to do my hair because I want a guy to think that it's actually long instead of hair extensions (no secret, I wear hair extensions), then so be it!

Self-worth is a tricky thing when you're heart is broken when for so long your value was dependent on someone else.  And it's going to take some time to love yourself enough for two people, so until then do it how you feel it... and put on some lipgloss, you never know who's looking.

A Gift From My Former Self

After reflecting more deeply on my "rock bottom weekend," I began thinking back to times past when I have felt low.  Even lower than I feel right now.  My first semester freshman year of college I suffered from biological depression.  I went to school six hours away from home, and thought I could handle that.  Obviously I could not.  By Thanksgiving break I had gained 15 pounds and had a panic attack at the ten o'clock mass.  When I got home, my sister called to ask if I was okay.  She said she could tell something was different and wanted to make sure I was adjusting at school.  The thing is, I honestly thought I was fine.  That's the thing about depression, it sneaks up on you, and sometimes you don't know it's there... until it's really there.  I went back to school after Thanksgiving in a downward spiral until Christmas break.  I suffered three panic attacks: one in the bathroom during calculus class, one blow drying my hair in my bedroom before Spanish class, and one on my way to work at the ROTC building.  I felt worthless.  No one liked me; why would they?  I saw myself as overweight, unintelligent, and different.  I began to see myself the way that my roommates told me I was when they were drunk.

"You're so stupid!"

I let them define me and I didn't even know it.  And then I came home for Christmas... and it was apparent to everyone that something was undeniably wrong.  I didn't want to spend time with my friends.  I couldn't sleep at night.  I had gained at least 5 more pounds since Thanksgiving.  I was lethargic, sensitive, distant, and alone in the presence of others.  So my sister stepped in, and I will never feel like I can thank her enough for it.  She told my mother something had to be done.  I flew to Florida to spend my last week of winter break reading in the sun at my Aunt's house, and I received a call from the counseling support center at my university asking if I'd like to set up an appointment; my sister had called them.  I went back to school for one week in January 2011.  I didn't sleep a wink at night and could barely coax myself out of bed during the day.  I met with a psychologist who encouraged me to see a psychiatrist for antidepressants. That Saturday, I got a call from my sister,

"Mom say's she'll come get you."

and that was it for me.  I walked away from school and didn't know if I would ever go back.  I withdrew, packed up, and moved home with no plan and a lot of love.  My family did everything they could to keep it together for me.  I had never felt so low, so incapable of happiness, but my family and my true friends got me through it.  I got a job, took night classes, and tried to get it together.  I exercised, read, and wrote my way through depression.

Looking back on that time in my life is what brings me to my post today.  I found a gift from myself in a file on my computer.  If at the lowest moment of my life, I was able to write this way - to think this way- then I can carry myself through the superficiality of a college break-up with dignity.

A fact: nobody chooses to be broken. It would be irrational to believe that a person makes the conscious decision to feel the unyielding piercing in the pit of her stomach, the relentless pressure building behind her eyes, or the perpetual feeling of emptiness that remains seemingly insurmountable. It has been said that you are always in control of your own fate; it’s a lie. Sometimes the choice is not yours to make, and many times there is a breaking point. The world is silent, sleep is exhausting, smiling is infrequent, and your spirit is broken. Barring natural disaster, the truth is that someone contributes to this personalized, toxic, apocalyptic state. They chose for you. They fueled the earth-shattering, emotional tragedy that inevitably infiltrates every crevice of an already fragile life until the glue had been employed to hold the pieces together is forced to give way to devastation. 

A fact: everybody has the ability to heal. It would be irrational to believe that a person could be broken forever. It has been said that you are responsible for your own happiness; it’s the truth. One day when the world is silent, sleep is exhausting, smiling is infrequent, and your spirit is broken, you will realize that the catalyst that caused this quasi-apocalyptic tragedy is unworthy of grief. The anguish will turn to fury, and eventually to numbness. You will choose to fill the new wound with the same glue that used to hold the broken pieces of your life together, and with time, you will heal.