Blogging is such an interesting concept. There are so many different types of blogs out in the interwebs – how-to blogs, lifestyle blogs, informational blogs, opinion blogs. You get the idea.
They say it’s best to have a focus when you’re blogging. Something you’re an expert on or passionate about. Honestly, I haven’t quite figured that out yet for my own blog. My life doesn’t have direction, nevermind my blog. But I do know that sharing my story is what makes me feel less alone. Through sharing my story, I hope you find the strength and courage to share yours too. I do believe we are meant to share our lives with others. So it’s my hope that, if anything, through the ups and downs I’m sure to experience when writing this blog, that as you read it, you feel a little less alone too.
I’ve deemed Sunday the day of exploring. Yesterday, I went to Union Market in the NW quadrant of DC because I really wanted ice cream and Union Market I had been told has lots of delicious foods – which they did! But I had one mission and one mission only and that was to find the ice cream. And I succeeded. One amazing scoop of pumpkin speculoos…perfect for an 85 degree almost fall day.
For those of you who don’t know me, I have made it my mission to go to as many ice cream places as I can. I don’t exactly remember when this become my mission, but I do remember a time when I hated ice cream. Freshman year of high school. The worst year of my life. The year the words Eating Disorder swirled around me like a cold winter breeze. The year all I could do was go to school, come home and do homework and then curl up in a ball and cry.
The memory that sticks out to me to the most during this time was when my dad one autumn night went out into the frigid cold weather for the distinct purpose of buying me a single scoop of ice cream from Friendly’s. I remember requesting strawberry in a cup because it sounded like the healthiest flavor and cups didn’t contain calories. It took me 3 DAYS to eat that scoop of ice cream. Every night I would eat a few small bites, and then stick that cup back in the freezer. How I savored each and every bite. It’s interesting the memories that stick with us during our lowest valleys.
Fast forward to now when I indulge in as much ice cream as I want. I think it’s an unconscious effort to defy that year and who I used to be. Our pasts become our ghosts. As much as we would like to leave some of our past behind, it somehow makes its way back. It fuels our biggest passions, our personality, our dreams even. It is important that we don’t dwell too much on the mistakes we have made or upon the “could have been”. But I also think sometimes, while we are trying to put up our best front and move forward, our past gets in the way.
I don’t know what battles you are facing today, or this week, or this month. But I do know that it imperative that you share it with someone. Get it out. Scream, cry, whisper it to the person you trust most. Or if you’re not sure who that person is, or aren’t quite ready to share yet, write it out. Write a letter, a postcard, a journal entry. It’s after we stop focusing on burying our past, that true growth can begin. Your past is part of your story. As much as you might want to escape it – it is a part of you. Maybe this is your season for embracing who you once were so that you can become who you are meant to be. Be strong and create the bridge from your past to your future.