My own emotions tend to overwhelm me. It’s impossible to describe how good it feels to actually be myself again. The euphoria encompassing me is intense beyond measure. While you wouldn’t be foolish to presume that my elation is the result of my viable, ongoing pregnancy, truthfully, this is bigger than that. Of course, the little man growing inside me is my ultimate, but I found myself, or more aptly re-discovered myself before my pregnancy.
I spent too many years of my young life not appreciating the simple pleasures of living. How I pushed on in this way is unfathomable to me now. I literally cannot understand why I willingly sucked the joy out of my own life day in, day out. Negative habits have a way of doing that though don’t they? Dominating your mind and tricking you into believing that they’re normal.
Kicking back last night with music blaring out of my iPod dock, my mind switched into overdrive. It was this moment I pondered over how music (punk, hard-core, pop and indie) fills the goodie bags inside my soul. That food tastes amazing without self imposed restrictions. How sex is fantastic when I’m not fretting over every loose, bumpy bit on my body, and that if you let them, family and friends have the capacity to love you more than you will ever know. This is my definition of contentment. The kind of contentment that can be felt by every single body part. If you’re not used to this kind of satisfaction, the blissful sensations rippling through your body can become overpowering.
I’m not one who typically cries over happy emotions, however tonight was a massive exception. I was mid-process clearing my vision board to make room for my updated thoughts and ideas when tears started streaming down my face. Witnessing the so called ‘inspirational’ pieces I had tacked all over its body; the people I dreamt to be more like, the practices I bullied myself into regularly practicing all in the name of health, wellness and fertility, transported me back to my pain. Once again I was suffocating under the thick grey cloud that permeated my every day. Horrifically, I could feel that inescapable darkness which tore my heart into pieces, ate it up, then regurgitated it out as if it were food poisoning. I cried, my god I cried. I cried reflecting on the depressed sack of emptiness I was. I cried for the waste of good life. The present me was overcome by guilt, wishing that I could have been strong enough, as I am today, to fix me somehow. I wish I could have held out my hands and yanked myself out of my grief, but I couldn’t. Although I was the bravest of brave, alone I couldn’t’ manage the monsters inside my head.
As time rolls on, and I sit here now, happier than I ever could have imagined, I guess I want to say I forgive me for sinking so low, for disrespecting myself and selling me so short. Being the vibrantly alive woman I am today, I know I can let of the guilt over hurting myself so bad. I’m choosing to look back and feel nothing but gratitude. Honestly, I’m grateful for this ugly, low point in my life because now at the highest of highs I feel wealthier than Beyoncé.