Why I Stopped Putting You First

    When you’re with someone, you want to be consumed in them. I know I do, at least. I want to share my two am thoughts and I want to know that my good morning text made you smile. I want to know that when I am not there you reach your hand to my side of the bed in search of my own and the thought of me not being there at least brings you a little sadness. I want to feel secure in myself as well as in us and not be worried that I am going to be replaced or that someone takes my spot when I’m not there. I want someone who wants me regardless of my scars, regardless of the things that haunt my past and linger into my present. I want to be wanted. I don't want unanswered texts and mixed messages. I don't want to lie in bed at night and wonder why I am not good enough or what I could do to make myself more appealing for you. I shouldn't have to live in a “wanna be” relationship feeling more alone than when I was at my lowest.

     And that is why I can no longer have you as a priority, because to you I am only an option. And that is not an option to me. I am not a thought that crosses your mind when you turn over to see the spot next to you bare. You only care about you. And that is why I have to let you go. And that’s okay.

    I have spent years catering to others, hoping that one of the times all the things I do for this person or that person would finally fill this emptiness inside. I deserve the type of love, and the type of relationship that feeds my soul, not drains it. After falling face first into the hard concrete of tough relationships I think it is time to take a step back and take care of me. So I am choosing to stop putting you first, and to give myself a shot. I come from a long list of insecurities, each a little less pretty than the last and I am looking to change that. I am not looking to make the list longer. I want to wake up in the comfort of my own company and not have this burning need to text someone. I want to tell myself good morning and feel the sunshine on my face and know that I am okay. With or without you, or anyone else for that matter.

    So I am vowing to myself, to let go of those toxic relationships that allow my insecurities to weigh me down like two pockets full of rocks. I vow to embrace the potential relationship with myself and work as hard as I can on looking at myself in the mirror and knowing in my heart that I am enough. 

Learning to Breathe Underwater

I have feelings, a lot of them.

I’ve been off medication for about two months now, and life is a little weird. Okay, a lotta weird. I am dealing with a whirlwind of emotions that have remained dormant for the last three years of taking a tiny pill that ensues a wave of comfortable sadness. I forgot how hard it was to live in a state where feeling emotions, real emotions, was a thing. And right now I hate it. I know I can do it on my own but its a lot harder than I initially thought it would be. I have all these things inside of me, these feelings and emotions that I don't really know what to do with. For the last three years I have experienced what I call surface feelings, they were there but I never really experienced them. I forgot what true anger felt like as it welled in my chest creating this burning urge to slam a door. I forgot what it felt like to feel the sun on my skin, and appreciate its warmth. I forgot what it was like to be genuinely hurt because I spent the better half of the last three years only half experiencing things, pushing them to the side, telling them they could wait. It wasn't until I returned from feeling unbelievably numb in a place that I thought would fix my nothingness that I realized that this mind fogging medicine was forcing me just to survive.

I thought I knew what it felt like to lose it, but nothing compares to sitting in the middle of your bed at three am trying to quiet the noise in your head because for the first time in years its more than just a whisper. It’s yelling in all different tones about seven different things that I just cant wrap my head around. Deciding to take ahold of my life was more like losing it all over again but in the most tragically beautiful way. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of myself, not knowing how to deal with these new feelings that welled inside, but its simple. You take it one step at a time, slowly learn to breathe underwater. Push through the confusion and realize you can't make sense of nonsense. Appreciate the ability to feel, and feel deeply. That is one of the most beautiful things about living, feeling things. Whether it be a smile when you receive a compliment, the warmth that builds in your belly after a first kiss, or the tinge of pain in your heart when it breaks. Take these experiences, learn from them, grow from them. Realize that you aren't alone. You are alive and you are meant to feel, you are meant to live and experience and flourish. 

It took me many nights of endless tears debating on whether or not a life of comfortable sadness was better than feeling too much all the time to realize that a life without feeling is not a life worth living. To feel means to grow, and to grow means to take a stab at thriving. You can't expect a flower to sprout without sunshine. I was tired of living in the dark, rolling through the motions of every day life with a half smile on my face that refused to ignite my willingness to live. I didn’t even know what I was missing out on until I threw away everything that I had built and left. I experienced life and although it kicked my to the ground and snickered like a playground bully, I did it. It awoke a part of me that had remained dormant due to mind fogging medication that refrained me from clear thinking. Blinded me and pushed me to drag through life like I was just meant to survive. I am meant to live. And living will be done.

Waves pull me out to sea, and sometimes I feel like I'm drowning. But slowly and steadily I am learning to breathe underwater.