Breathe.

Breathe.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I wear a set of bracelets, with words inscribed on them, on my wrist every day. The only time I ever take them off is to shower. They serve as little reminders of things to be more of. For example, one of my bracelets says “be kind.” I use this bracelet to help me remember to see things from other points of view, and to always be kind to people. This is because I’ve found that you never really know the true story behind someone’s actions, and so a little kindness can go a long way.

I also rank my bracelets daily- by importance. With the bracelet that I feel like I need the most that day being closest to my hand. The one which is almost always ranked at the top is the word “breathe.”

The word “breathe” has come to mean a lot to me over the past year. My life has kind of fallen apart. I went from just disordered eating, to a full blown eating disorder. My anxiety went through the roof. I went from occasionally having a panic attack, to, on a bad day, having at least five panic attacks. I isolated myself from a majority of my friends; I would rarely attend social events. To top it all off, I fell in love with my best friend- only to be rejected. Basically, my life was a mess.

However, throughout the disaster of 2018, this bracelet reminded me to keep breathing. To keep breathing through my panic attacks. When it felt like the walls were closing in and I was being suffocated. When it felt like the world was moving too fast- no matter what I did to try to stop it. When I was panicking so intensely that I was paralyzed- frozen in place. All I had to do was look down at my wrist, and I was reminded that there was hope that it would all be okay. If not now- eventually. As long as I breathed.

Now, I’ve learned different breathing techniques to help me through a panic attack. I use a breathing app on my Apple Watch to help me regulate my breathing when I’m panicking. However, I don’t always like using it because I feel like it’s something that is noticeable- I can’t just do it subtly. So I’ve also learned other breathing techniques like 4-7-8 breathing. Where you breathe in for four counts, hold for seven, and then release for eight. 4-7-8 breathing has become my go to breathing technique when I’m panicking in a social situation, and I feel like it’s too noticeable to run my breathing app.

However, the word “breathe” still stays at the top of my stack of bracelets. As a reminder. To keep breathing. Because it’ll all be okay at the end, and if it’s not okay- it’s not the end.

-X

Menu.

Menu.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I want to start by giving out a small trigger warning for anyone who might currently be living with an eating disorder. I tried really hard not to make this post triggering, but it still might be.

I absolutely hate going out to eat. I hate people watching me when I eat. I hate having to make food choices in general, but especially hate having to make food choices in front of other people. In a time crunch. When I feel like everyone is judging me. I feel like people not only judge me if I’m eating too much, but also if I’m eating too little. Basically, going out to eat is something I avoid like the plague.

But tonight, I got roped into going out to dinner with my sorority family. For those of y’all not in greek life, a sorority family is basically a smaller clique within a bigger clique. And tonight, my sorority family made the group decision to go have dinner, and it would have been weird if I had decided not to go. Especially because I live with one of the girls in my sorority family, so she would know that I don’t have other plans tonight. So I’m going, even though I would quite rather do literally anything else. I’d rather stick a needle in my eye, and I hate needles. Absolutely hate needles. They send me spiraling into a panic attack every time. And I would genuinely rather stick a needle in my eye than go out to dinner. Just think about that.

So now it’s only 10am, and I’ve been sitting here on my laptop just scrolling through the menu of this restaurant that I’m supposed to go to tonight. Nixing everything for some reason or another. And I’ve realized how much I hate menus. They give you too many choices. I would much rather have a little gnome pop out of the table and be like “based on your nutritional needs today, this is what you’re eating.” Because, first of all, gnomes are cool. But then also because it would completely eliminate the struggle of trying to make a healthy food decision. So if one of y’all wants to invent that, please, be my guest.

But until my little decision making gnome is invented, I have to sit here and struggle with menus. And constantly shut down the ED voice whispering in my ear. And as I do that, I would like to leave y’all with the quote that is currently pinned to the top of my Pinterest board:

Food is not the enemy.

-X

Love.

Love.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Love is a funny thing. Cliche opening- I know. Growing up, I used to absolutely idolize the relationships which were present in popular culture. I was obsessed with love stories, Disney movies, love songs etc. You get the picture. I thought that eventually, if I was patient enough, I would find my very own prince charming. I was convinced that my life would play out exactly like a romantic comedy- random song bursts of song and all.

However, life had a different plan. You mean my life wasn’t destined to turn out like a romantic comedy? Are you shocked? Because I genuinely was.

In college, I discovered I was bi, and then promptly fell in love with my best friend. Classic, I know. But how could I not when my best friend is genuinely one of the most beautiful humans that I had ever met? Both inside and out. She is as smart as a whip, incredibly kind, empathetic, and “grab your sides because you’re laughing so hard” funny. To top it all off, she’s also stunning.

But, this story does not follow the rom-com plot line of: “best friends fall in love and end up living happily ever after.” No, this story turns into, what one of my friends has referred to as: a cross between the saddest romantic comedy you’ve ever seen and a horror movie.

I first told my best friend that I was in love with her after she had just broken up with her girlfriend. This was horrible timing, I know. However, after I realized that I had picked possibly the worst timing in the history of the world, I decided that there was still hope that she might eventually feel the same way. This was dumb, and I strongly advise against doing it.

But yet, there I was hoping that she would eventually fall in love with me. Why? Because all of the romantic comedies I had grown up watching had shown me that, if things are meant to be, they will be. How could things not be meant to be if we were best friends? The ultimate goal is to fall in love with your best friend- right?

Over the next few months, we became inseparable. I’m talking about being around each other constantly. 24/7. And that is not an exaggeration. We planned our lives around each other. She went with me to all of my doctors, nutritionist and therapy appointments. She helped me plan my meals. She was someone that I felt completely comfortable collapsing into, sobbing, at the end of a rough day. She became a safe space for me. And honestly, I was a safe space for her as well.

We were in that awkward zone between best friends and something more. At least, that’s how I see it on my end.

But then, eventually, she started dating other people. Nothing serious. But still, it hurt. So I decided to tell her that I had feelings for her, which ultimately lead to her telling me that she couldn’t date me because I relied on her too heavily as a support system.

Now, I feel that it is important to make it clear that I am not bitter about her decision. Incredibly hurt? Yes. It feels like someone has simultaneously stabbed me, and turned my world upside down. But not bitter. Because at the end of the day, she is still my best friend, and I care about her deeply. I don’t want that to change.

I’m now trying to figure out how to move on. How to quash my preconceived notion of “best friends always end up together if they love each other.” Because in real life, out of the context of a rom-com, that is not the case. Sometimes you have to sit by and watch as the person that you’re in love with falls in love with other people.

Quite honestly, I don’t know where I’m going to go from here. But I know that, as messy as this entire situation was, I have learned from it. Love is painful, it hurts, and it takes unexpected twists and turns. But it also helps you grow. And ultimately, isn’t growing as a person the goal?

-X

Beginning.

Beginning.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

If you have somehow happened to find this blog- welcome! I’m a twenty two year old, southern, college student. I also struggle daily with anxiety and an eating disorder.

This is exactly the opposite of how I’m used to introducing myself by the way. I normally present myself with, what I have labeled as, “the perfect facade”. I’m a straight A student, successful, talented, adventurous and friendly. I love animals (especially dogs and elephants), dancing and traveling. I come across as the perfect friend, daughter, workout buddy, and sorority sister.

But I’m tired of pretending.

I decided to create this blog because I hit a low point in my life. I felt isolated and alone, even though I was constantly surrounded by people. However, that being said, I do not want this blog to become a place of negativity. I want to take all of my negative feelings and turn it into something productive. If people, for some reason, happen to stumble across it, I want it to be something that encourages thought. Or, at the very least, is entertaining to read.

So welcome to, what I’m calling, my open door.

-X