A dramaqueen if ever there was one..1

Signing-in this morning, on this blog and on the set-up page it said: last published post was on the 12th of March. It always says when I wrote my last piece, and usually the fact that it was 5 days ago would have given me the worst feeling in the world. But today, it didn't strike a cord. I am deliberately forgetting what my rule-book, that I've set for myself, says. Because the only one who is checking in to see if I'm abiding by these so-called rules, is me. Why? For no reason. Maybe to be harsh, maybe so I can feel like a failure if I don't act according to these rule that are no where to be found in print, but only in thoughts. So have the rules changed? No, but I have had to loosen-up and realize that nobody is policing what I write and how often I write. But this is what I led myself to believe. Why? Because living without it this blog, didn't seem possible. Is it possible now? I still don't believe it is.

Another rule that I had set for myself, was to cut down on the blogging and to slowly distance myself from this chapter of my life. I want to desperately to close it all down, to wrap it up nice and neatly in a box, and to store it away. I want for it to always be an important part of my life and to dip into for future reference, but in the psychological sense.. By this I mean, to think back to what this blog gave me, to what I felt whilst creating it and to how I honoured myself as it made everything in my life make sense. But the rule of distancing myself from it, is something I can't seem to abide by. Not yet, not now. It makes me feel awful to leave it behind. Not because I can't cut loose from the eating disorder. Not because I still want it be to me. Not because I'm grieving. But simply because this is all I want to do, for now. I don't want my life to be without writing. And if this blog is still giving me what I need for now, then why should I let it go? Just because I want to label everything by ending one chapter to starting another.

But there will never be a day, when I wake up to find myself transformed. Therefore I will never feel the desire to stop blogging, to stop analyzing, to stop being aware, to stop sharing and to stop growing. It's not like the flick of a switch. So I can't expect it ever to feel right, even though I've found myself waiting for the time to feel right. But it never will be, because it will always feel wrong. I'll never to be able to pinpoint the date, when I woke/wake up and I was/am different or better or healed or recovered or transformed. I simply can't. Because a transformation isn't instant. It's gradual. It takes time and adaptation. If it's natural it won't be sudden. If it's flowing, it won't be drastic. If it's drastic, it means it's harder to adjust. And adjusting so suddenly is going against the natural course that life is supposed to take. Forcing isn't natural. It brings up aches, pain, anger, discontent and a feeling of separation. Nobody wants to be separated from something that is so dear, from something that has become a part of being, from something that life has given you and that you cherish.

Realizing a love that you have; it's suddenly being revealed, it has always been there, but you were never aware and now you finally choose to see it and to experience the joy it brings to you. Bringing a passion into your life, just like a loved-one, and not being able to feel whole without it. Seeing a gift for what it is and using it, only gives you the tools to do what it is from day to day that makes the life you want. Tools to either work on yourself and to keep yourself sane or tools to help others and educate them on what lies beyond or tools to discover the world and to learn about everything that's in it. Reading a word, such a simple little thing, done from day to day. But to see that way in which it's formulated, the context around one word, the meaning behind it and then the sentence that has evolved bringing something extra. And the next sentence is totally different, but still in touch with the one before. The choice of words that just comes with each thought and the vocabulary that extends and extends, with every book that expands the mind. The choice of words and formation that comes together giving a different twist and turn to words and a different meaning and with depth behind them that is always there but that not everybody can see. The space in between, like falling into gaps of nothingness, but they are more than nothingness, they are more because it's the space that gives the words meaning and it gives them air to breathe and to be individual but still being part of a story. The part they play, could be tiny or huge, but that's insignificant. It doesn't matter, the point is that they have been chosen and they exist alone and together.

....More to come