Goodbye, Former Self.

Am I the only one who feels that font is an important first step to writing?

Maybe it’s because I’ve never particularly liked my handwriting.  I like to choose fonts that are sort of type-set for serious writing and for more personal venting I like fonts that look more handwritten. 

In school I used it as a procrastination technique; it would take me hours to choose the right font for a paper.  Even if I had to download a new one.  Sometimes it took so long I needed a snack or bathroom break. 

Oops.

Can’t start now.  Gotta pee instead.  

Darn.

This is not really relevant to what I had intended to write at all, but I think about it every time I start to write something because I like to write using Word and then copy and paste it into my blog.  The font is the main reason for that, even though I do just really like the format of Word.

I also like Excel.  Like, a lot. 

I love making spreadsheets. 

It’s a sickness.

I was thinking this morning about the ways in which I’ve changed over the last five years. 

When I started this blog I wanted it to be similar content-wise to Sex and the City.  The show, not so much the book.  I read the book and, to be honest, I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would. 

If you’ve watched the show but not read the book, the first season is very similar style-wise.  And for those of you who haven’t watched the show, the first season is the worst. 

The book was ultimately very depressing and Carrie isn’t a character that people really want to be.  It’s much less settled and more party girl than the show ends up being.

ANYWAY.

That is not what happened. 

The thing is, the person I was when I started this blog five years ago was happy and more comfortable in her own skin than I am now (weight gain), but I realize now she was pretty far into denial about how lost she was.  And she was still really fucked up. 

I bitched about my ex A LOT.

It took until around the summer of 2012 for me to really get over him.  It’s funny now when I think about it because I was afraid to let him go all of the way because I was terrified I’d end up alone.  After my first year at college ended I realized I was going to be happier without him, whether I found someone else or not.

I remember the moment I let go very distinctly, and I’m glad I do because it brings me peace every time it comes to mind.

I was going grocery shopping.  I had just parked in the lot and he was texting me (and hiding it from his current girlfriend).  We were fighting.  The whole time I knew him we were either fighting or I was letting him walk all over me.

I remember thinking so clearly that I didn’t really want to talk to him anymore.  I was almost surprised. 

Then he said we should stop talking.  I agreed.  I went inside and did my shopping with a feeling of lightness in my chest.  I went home.

Not long after I started really talking to Yoshi.

I got the bow tattoo on my ring finger.  Just in case I needed a reminder other than the Cherokee on my rib cage.

I started dating Yoshi. 

Eventually I just didn’t reply anymore when he tried to contact me and I know now it’s better that way.

Sometimes I regret the time I wasted letting him back in time after time, year after year, but I think if I hadn’t done that I wouldn’t have become who I am now and ultimately that person is much cooler than who I was at 20. 

I’m not saying I’m thankful, rather that I just don’t regret.

I took a rather long and unintentional break from blogging.  I didn’t have a lot of time for it in school and the things that came to mind to write about seemed silly and childish.  When I moved to Santa Rosa I didn’t have much time for it, either.

Truth be told, I really didn’t write much after finishing school.  Because of that I think I really lost touch with myself for a while there.

It took me writing consistently again and having time with myself to figure that out.  I’ve never felt so lost and been in a stable relationship before.  It was so easy to lose myself in work and blame him for everything that felt wrong.  And everything felt wrong because I wasn’t happy, but it felt like I had no idea what made me happy anymore.

I missed feeling happy. 

I missed not feeling as though I needed the antidepressants I had been taking. 

I missed feeling like myself.

Now I watch the changing winds push and pull at the summer fog and every time the clouds move out the sky reflects on the water in the most pure and cerulean blue I think I’ve ever seen. 

I’m not afraid to dream anymore.

It’s like that clear and bright reflective blue has latched onto my heart and I can feel hope again.

Even though I feel the weight of 30 breathing down my neck, I'm less freaked out by my next birthday than I was before.  I like who I am now more than who and what I was at 20.

It's okay that I don't have children and I'm not going to be married by then.  It's only 30.  

Besides, maybe instead of kids I'll have an adventure instead.  

Who knows.