Long over due

It’s quite sad to admit that my keyboard feels foreign to me, we use to be so in tune… It’s been over a month (*cough* four months *coughs*) since my last post, which wasn’t even a blog post… ( Un análisis de A History of Mary Prince, a West Indian Slave).  For an aspiring blogger, I am slacking way too much.. In all honesty it might have even been on purpose, or not; for various reasons.  As I have explained before, my blog is my “pensieve”, my “I hope to get some insight”; it allows me to “exorcise my demons”, to analyze and attempt to understand… everything, or at times, nothing.  After experiencing several incidents that some may refer to as “emotional break downs” (fuck it, I’ll be honest, I’m slowly decomposing mentally and emotionally), without any form of improvement or a true form of release, it becomes rather clear that one should sit down and write…. I am not entirely sure why it has taken me so long to start writing, but I could argue certain points that could potentially be a factor… Due to the date of my last actual blog (Without answers or reasons) which was three days after my bhai passed away (walaikum salam), I felt lost in a sea of disbelief and numbness (nine days previous to that I got divorced); quite honestly I have only vague recollections of those three months after my bhai’s death (it’s such a heavy word to write, think, or say, was it always? Or is it just now that the weight of his absence reminds me that he’s no longer here?).  I stopped blogging, however, I didn’t quite stopped writing if that counts; I absentmindedly wrote my essays for class and finals.  Perhaps I needed the break, to say that I read and wrote a lot is an understatement… But then again, perhaps I needed to miss the light silhouette of the symbols that label each key, feel it’s smooth square surface, feel the distinctive rod-shaped-markings that differentiate the “F” and the “J”… Now that I find myself here typing, I have come to realize that in fact I have actually missed it.. Just feeling the synchronized fluidity of my fingers as they glide over each of the keys, pressing down softly and firmly… I even missed the “click, click”…. Why in the hell did I stop blogging???!!!  I am still unsure…

I miss you bhai…

I must admit that those may not have been the most pressing potential factors to my slacking… Perhaps I didn’t want to see the truth, or put the feelings into thoughts, and into words…making them tangible.  Once you do that, there is no turning back, at least for me; it’s more real than before, it’s tangible, it’s visible, it’s there…
Once you reach a certain age, one doesn’t expect certain “incidents” could occur… One can be terribly wrong… So far this year has been about facing my fears, in very extreme ways I might add (dear universe, I share your morbidly sardonic sense of humor at times, but damn…).

I’ll start with the least pressing one, which is this new phase in which I currently find myself in… two steps away from the third floor… And I still don’t have a clue as to what being an adult is…I can honestly say, however, that I am extremely happy to not have any human children; four legged ones are so much better.  Yet I still feel lost as to what to do when it comes to existing in society, and having it see me as an adult.  I am still learning how to cook, and how to balance my time between school/work and all the adult things we have to do (cleaning, laundry, organizing… “adulting”)…

The most pressing one is the challenge of facing the obstacles that harshly contradict your morals, beliefs, integrity, etc… In this particular case I’d say it’s the challenge of not giving in to the depression that consumes you when your reality shifts radically and suddenly.  My theory is that our minds react to these radical-reality-shifts the same way our bodies react to the varicella virus; the older you get, the harder it hits you…

Over all, however, the hardest challenge is to keep going..despite anything, keep going with a smile on and positive disposition… try not to become a cynically empty shell, as tempting as it may be…

 

 

Back

I cannot believe how long I have deprived myself from writing, funny how responsibilities find a way to seep through our hobbies and push them aside. Truth is, it shows, my mind feels more stressed than usual. As the only means of stress release, not writing really gets to me.  But with finals out-of-the-way, I can breathe and pick up from where I left off, trying to organize my mind, make it peaceful… A sanctuary as oppose to my torture, the thing is your mind is the one place you can’t hide or run away from… But somehow with writing (and definitely running) I can push my thoughts aside, and relax.. must not stop writing, must not stop writing…

 

 

Work out inhibitions

I have never been a fit girl… In fact my childhood consisted of candy, and taunting (which came from kin and foe) .. As the heaviest of all my cousins and siblings, I was constantly reminded of my weight and how horrible my body looked in comparison to my slender cousins… Mind you I was only 8 when it started.  As I grew into my teens, things got worse and I became a chubby child.  I have all sorts of quotes branded into my brain by my grandparents and aunts and uncles.. even some of my eldest cousins.. Esthetics are rather important in my family… Well, at least in my extended family, my immediate family got a rude awakening to weight problems… By the time I was 15 I got so traumatized by my weight that I looked for a way out.. And I found an eating disorder… Almost 10 years later, I still struggle to keep a healthy weight without losing my mind and without torturing my self.. Of course the taunting has stopped (from my extended family, and from other peers)  Most of the torturing and taunting I have done on myself.. It takes years (specially if your family pesters you about something and does not teach you other wise) to understand that outside opinions, words, and other form of input, can affect you only if YOU allow it.. It took me six years to distance myself from the death trap that an eating disorder can be.. By the time I was 18 my parents finally realized that I was not losing weight but was rather sick and unhealthy, at the verge of becoming seriously ill from it.. At that point, I was no longer allowed to do as I pleased, four years later, I had managed to be at a healthy weight… And above all, I saw the pain and suffering I caused my loved ones, I did not want to inflict pain or hurt them.. That was never my intention, so I stopped and tried my hardest to get out of my Anorexia…  However, till this day, I struggle to see it as” healthy” and not “fat”.. I am still not happy with my body, but, I am not in deadly peril.. Instead of starving and torturing myself, I found a way to be safe and over all reach a goal where I can be fit and happy with my body.. The problem and stress comes when an injury happens and I have to stop working out.. That’s when I go crazy inside my mind.. I do not allow people inside my problem, I don’t want to pester them.. or rather, if I am being honest with myself, I don’t want people to worry and see that pained look in their eyes.. My parents deserve better than that.. and who has heard of a 26 year old with weight/ eating disorder problems… So, naturally, I keep it to myself.. and drown in it.. I need to run and be free of my mind sometimes, so it doesn’t get to me anymore..
A month ago, my back gave me problems and I gained two pounds.. Finally I managed to lose them when I was able to step into the gym again.. Sadly, I cannot run, or at least not outside.. I am constrained to a noisy machine that is repetitive and boring..  But I was getting better, and stronger and could finally work out again. Yesterday, my wrist got injured, and now.. I cannot work out again.. I feel desperate.. and sometimes it is so difficult to hide it.. I keep looking in the mirror and I see the image getting larger… I lose touch between reality and the idealism that haunts me..