I used to blog with the intention that someone would read my posts. Like me writing my thoughts down was for other people. There’s a part of me that still hopes people would want to hear what I have to say, and that someday my blog might get famous (for what, I’m not sure).
But there’s something to be said about writing just for yourself. People do it all the time – keep diaries, journals, jot down their thoughts or their dreams. I want to write for me.
About five years ago, I had made a list of thirty things I wanted to do before I turned thirty. I felt like the world was my oyster and I had all the time in the world to complete these things. Now, I turn thirty in three short months, and I’ve only completed maybe a third of my list. I feel dejected, inept, and once again, a failure. I know that I’m not, but I always seem to lean slightly towards the pessimistic viewpoint – even though I want to be an optimist. God, do I want to be an optimist.
I was watching Grey’s anatomy and Meredith and Cristina talk about being in the dark place. I kind of feel like I’m there right now. I don’t feel like I am doing well at work, I miss my friends and the life I had back east, and despite the fact that I want to lose weight, I can’t seem to stop eating. The way I feel always seems to come down to my weight.
And so, while I was feeling like I was in the dark place last night, I ate a lot of food and felt even worse about myself.
And then I thought, well, I may not be able to check everything off of my ‘Thirty Things’ list, but I can work on the one thing that makes me unhappy. I’m going to get under 200 lbs before I turn 30. That is something I can do. I weight 237 now.
Time to meet this deadline.