should i be writing?

another unorganized rambling, sort of an overthinking out loud part 2, if you will. enjoy!

If this is your first time reading my blog, welcome. My name’s Audrina and this is where, for only about the past week and a half or so, I have been spewing words in the forms of poetry, story times, and jumbled-up thoughts turned into even more jumbled-up words. What I’m trying to say is, I’m very new at this. I’ve toyed with the idea before, with sharing my thoughts, feelings, and ideas. I’d do this on a different platform for a short while, and then quit because it felt “wrong”. I’d start a food-centric Instagram page, and then delete it as soon as I realized it was making me focus even more than I already was on food, which was ultimately detrimental to my recovery (I’ve been struggling with an eating disorder for almost half my life, granted I’m only 20, but still). I’d write and write and write until I would discover that I’d been writing for all of the wrong reasons. Sometimes I would write so that others would perceive me a certain way, and post pictures that made my life look a certain way, and give the illusion of a perfect, dreamy aesthetic. A common reason was that I wanted to help others, and give hope and guidance and relief to the people who related to my words. Don’t get me wrong, helping others is lovely and great. We should all help others. The problem is that everything I’ve done with my life for the past almost 21 years was to serve others, never allowing anything at all in the universe to be of service to me and only me. This time around is different. I’m writing and sharing because it is therapeutic to me. If you’re reading this, thats cool, but please stop if you’re not thoroughly enjoying it. Frankly, I just don’t care. Its not that I don’t care about you, dear reader, I really do from the bottom of my heart. Although I don’t know you, I love and care for you from the bottom of my heart, and it greatly pains me to see anyone at all suffering, regardless of if they’re someone I get along with or care to be around. I’m not saying this because I want you to view me as a kind, caring, compassionate, whatever you personally might call it person. I really don’t care what you think of me, or even if you’re aware of my existence. I’m just saying it because its who I am as a person, and maybe someone out there wants to know that about me. I don’t care if anyone sees this, if anyone reads or follows my blog, or likes any of my posts. I recently decided to take a break from all social media, as my life was ruled by trying to live in a way that was beautiful to other people, and doing things to make them happy. Long story short, I’m a people-pleaser. Always have been, and perhaps always will be. Which I think is ok, as long as one of the people that I’m pleasing is myself. Anywho, writing this blog felt wrong, too much like the social media that I haven’t so much as looked at or scrolled through in several weeks. But I realized it was different, not only because, to my knowledge, no one here knows who I am. But also because my thoughts and attitude behind this platform are so separate and detached from my views on social media. I deserve to write, so I will.

overthinking out loud

WARNING: this post won’t be at all organized and probably won’t make any sense. It won’t be beautiful or poetic. its just a spewing of my thoughts, as they are, in my mind.

I can’t write now. I’m doing too well. I’m not having any crazy thoughts that I need to get out. I’m existing. Happily. Existing. Its mundane but content. I always think I’m doing well. When I look back to what I can now see as some of my worst points, I thought I was doing well. So does that mean that I am hardcore struggling right now, and that I’m in denial? Maybe. What will it take for me to feel my pain? Will I know when I lose X amount of pounds again? Or when I find myself waking up in a hospital again? Maybe I have to put myself through some more trauma, spend time with people that I know are dangerous, put myself into situations that are just, well, bad. Maybe this is just how my life is meant to go, waves of feeling good about how good things are going, crashing and trying to fix things, thinking that I’m doing oh-so-well again, just to crash yet again and realize that my progress was all a lie. I often find myself reminiscing on previous phases of my life, innocent youthful audrina, hot-mess high school audrina, wild party girl audrina, soft and vulnerable in treatment audrina, and whatever other versions of me existed in the past. I wonder what I’ll call this part of my life in a few years. I think about these different pieces of me often, and all of them still exist, coming out in different ways every now and again. Some people might say that I live in the past, spending my morning showers thinking about who I was a year or two ago, falling asleep at night while reading journal entries from when I was in treatment for my eating disorder. I disagree. If we don’t remember the past, and think regularly about the ways we moved on from it, can we really keep it in the past? If I don’t reflect on the worst nights of my life, whats stopping me from reliving them? Or maybe they’re right. I do feel stuck right now, yet unsure what I’m stuck in. Maybe I am stuck in the past. Who knows.