Random Conglomerate of Thoughts

While I lay here phone-less, completely vulnerable to my own emotions without any added support from Alex, I only fear myself. My life has it's remaining bits of euphoria, set upon remember the past, but otherwise I am beginning to act like a regular human being again... somewhat.

Life is changing for the better. This I know, but why does it feel so weird? Well I can tell you why. It is because I don't handle that whole change thing very well. Sure it may be very good change or happy change, but in general, whether change is good or bad, I struggle to maintain the sense of control and start into the mode of anxiety.

Now I'm not feeling anxious because I am getting healthy and rebuilding my self confidence/self esteem/healthy mindset, that part is all too amazing to worry about. I am feeling anxious about everything else in life. Everything is changing. Not necessarily now, but eventually. It's like I am beginning to leave everything behind.

I had to let go of my child years and begin my life as a teenager, and now, 7 years later, I embark into adulthood. There soon, in a short 2 months, will cease to be a teen at the end of my age. That is slightly unfathomable. 20. That number starts with a 2@! (I tried to capitalize 2 and then remembered that that would be an at @ sign). Not to put getting older in the corner, but I also have to face the facts of life, and not just a group of young women who wear red uniforms. I have to face that whole being an adult thing and being on my own and taking control of my life shit.

I guess it is all very excited. I get to be an individual, build credit, decorate my apartment, and grow up. Strange. Oh life.

So without also trying to shove the fact that I will soon have to face the responsibilities of real life I am also in a very strange place when it comes to dating. I am single. A change from the past almost 2 years. Although it is nice, it is going to take some major adjustments. Life. Too weird.

My Wish

Wishes, I never really believed in them yet I still took every oppurtunity I was presented with to wish and hope for something better. Every candle I blew out on birthdays, every shooting star that crossed the nights sky, every time I managed to hold my breath through a long tunnel, every time I saw a lone star and every time the clock read 11:11 I was wishing for one thing. My wish was always the same. I didn't wish for a prince charming, or a bounteous fortune, I wished for happiness. Whatever I thought would make me happy I wished for. I spent my younger years wishing for thinness, believe that that would make me happy. But it failed. Once I was thin I was miserable. After I broke into craziness I wished for sanity, but sanity just lead to less sanity and unfortunate weight gain. By then I was through, done with wishing. I had little hope that anything but myself could turn my life around. I worked my ass off to create a better version of myself, but that failed just as hard as anything else I tried. When nothing was working I tried once more to wish. Not for thinness, not for sanity, not for beauty, but for life. I wished for the ability to live the life that I want to live. I sought out medical help and discovered that my early heavier weight wasn't my fault, my anorexia (well that was my fault), but the weight gain after that was completely out of my control. I was given a diagnosis and a prescription.

My wish came true with the help of an amazing team of doctors and some magic medication, and now I LOVE my life.

Today I went to refill my pills for the first time and the total came to $11:11.
Something tells me now that the dreams that you wish will come true.

Momentary lapse

Before you worry about me, I'm fine. I am not angry at the world, and am still on cloud nine when it comes to nearly every aspect of my life. But for some reason I am experiencing a new emotion, bitterness. Now, I have been jealous before, and I have been angry before but this odd sensation isn't either. The only way to describe it is bitter, and my rational self knows that it's not even worthy of getting upset about. So with that said I am not even going to tell you why I'm bitter. Just that I am.

Anyway, I have also made another decision that will hopefully improve my literary career. Not only will it help me establish myself as a writer but it will end a personal vendetta I have against... well, myself.

Well that's really all I have to say for myself. Life is going great, minus the fact that I only have about $18 in my bank account, but otherwise amazing.

Sexy Drink

This morning, after walking all the way across campus just to discover that my class was canceled, I decided to venture to the school's coffee shop instead of walking down the hill and then back up an hour later. I ordered my favorite drink, large passion unsweetened ice tea with the tea bag left in. I sat there drinking my rose colored drink, and reading Ruby Fruit Jungle by Rita May Brown. As I progress through this book I'm discovering that it becomes more and more sexual as the page numbers go up. While reading this very provocative scene I became very aware that I was drinking a sexy drink. Suddenly I felt like I was exposing my erotic literature to the entire coffee shop all by sipping on my red/pink drink. Clearly that wasn't the case, and I was only about 3 pages into the next chapter when a girl who I used to be very close with in high school came over and we caught up while waiting for our 10 o'clock class to come around.

That's all for right now. When I first started writing this I had the 'Drink' in the title be plural and I was going to give reasons as to what other drinks I find sexy and why, but I am going to let you toy with that idea and maybe one day I'll actually write the rest, with the 's'.

Dreams (both goals and nightly images)

I could be writing an outline, or working on my story, but instead I feel the need to click on the little orange icon and write a blog.
There really is no point to this other to say that my life is awesome.
Since my diagnosis I feel like I've experienced every hardship that a girl with body image issues could possibly go through. Now that's it's come full circle and I find myself happy and feeling AMAZING about myself, I wish to help others who are finding themselves in a difficult position with body image, eating disorders or have a poor relationships with food. Maybe I'll write a book about it in hopes that it can help people with similar problem.



Did you ever have an imaginary friend? I know that my mind as a child was to preoccupied with Barbi or American Girl Dolls to create such a figure, but I think that they can be just the thing a kid needs some times. Last night I had this dream, I won't disclose what that dream was about, but it left me smiling in the morning. It wasn't necessarily a happy dream, and it certainly wasn't something I usually fantasise in my day-to-day day dreams, but this dream sparked almost an imaginary friend in me. This sounds crazy, I know, a twenty year old with an imaginary friend? Insane and rightfully so. But this character isn't really even a person, and I'm not pretending that he is currently sitting at my desk while I type this from my bed. No, I would say that my pretend companion is an idea, or intimate spark. This idea floats around my head all day; it's more of a comforting thought, that is far from reality, but still nice to think about.
Okay, label me insane if you want to. It doesn't matter, because I am the only one who can understand the compassion I feel towards something so simple as a thought.



*Why do the dreams that haunt me fill my hear with so much joy? Guilty I be not of unloyalty in reality, but hidden in the secrets of my mind.

Sunshine! Rainbows! Puppies!

It's been a long time since I've last posted anything, but lets get serious, no one actually reads this. I believe the only 3 people who do are Hayley, PJ and Sean. So Hello friends. Maybe someday people will read this.... BECAUSE I WILL BE FAMOUS!

If you scroll down you will find a whole bunch of angsty blogs about me whining about my personal life and problems, but that Heather is gone. Lets welcome in a new start and a new Heather. Hello Happy Heather!

Exciting, right?

A month ago Friday I received the most significant, life changing news in my entire life (second to my parents telling me of their divorce), and I, because of this diagnosis, have declared myself no longer crazy. I may be crazy in the, as Hayley says "what the Heather?" sort of way, but I am now free from the relentless, obsessive, controlling, spinning cycle of doom which was my mind.

I wish I could express to you just how huge this is! Just how happy I am! Here, I'll try to do my best. Have you ever been really worried for a test or an exam? You have prepared for it as much as you possibly could but still just thinking about it makes you want to puke. Okay, now picture that feeling, is it in your head? Now try to imagine feeling that way for 2 and a half years. It sucked, everything about it. I hated life and I hated my life, but now I feel so rejuvenated. No longer do I have that fear or nervousness, no longer do I plan and I plan and I plan, no longer do I want to escape my own life. Why would I now, I LOVE my life.

A month ago I hated college and was ready to head back home just to get my degree as quick and painless as possible, but now I am ready to live the college experience. To do wild things and have fun, just like everyone else. It's so great. Life is so great. I am so great!

The coolest part about being released from the torture of my own insanity is now I have more room and time for other thoughts. I'm discovering interests and creativity. I am becoming who I am truly meant to be. Ah this is sooooo cool!

Heather, I have found you, and I will not lose you again.

About that whole being famous exclamation. I can explain. See I want to be a writer. No, I am GOING to be a writer. This idea for a story popped into my head one day and ever since it has taken off. I am in love with it.

Well this is the new me and I am very excited about it. I am excited for the future.
I realize that this message is rather redundant in wording, but I'm just trying to get the point across. I AM HAPPY!!!

Shocking Realizations/ verbal thinking

The title of this is stolen from my friend Sean's blog, who is one of the three people who read this. Anyway, normally I would title it after it's been written, and I could use the material to draw up a clever name, but today I've had a shocking realization, hence the title.

My lameness leaves me alone this Friday night, and instead of trying to make plans or going out to do something "college", I sit at home skypeing with the long distance boyfriend and surfing the Internet. My news feeds home page on facebook leads me to an old friend of mine who I haven't talked to in about 5 or so years. We were good childhood friends before she moved to Chicago, and I always thought of her as a creative, artsy person. I clicked on her name and started looking around her profile. She's doing the typical college thing, going to parties, playing beer pong, being an art major etc etc... but then I got to her information page. Under interest she talks about music and how much she loves to follow it by going to live concerts and keeping up on her local music scene.

That's when it hit me. What am I interested in? Have I been so preoccupied with my own personal problems that I couldn't step out of it for a moment to develop real interest? If you're reading this, and you know me really well, you probably have a question mark spewed across your forehead, but let me explain.

Yes, I have a high interest in literature, but is it fair to call reading and writing a real interest of mine if it's primary use is to take me to a world not my own, and let me escape my own pain if only for awhile? Who's to say? I also really enjoy writing; I love tapping into that creative outlet to let go of anything and everything that's bothering me, but is that a real interest?

Now I'm starting to think even more. Maybe now that this chronic pain is gone I can turn my therapeutic placebo interests into full blown, gone with the wind, rip at your heart, kind of insane passions? But at the same time, I'm also beginning to wonder if my creativity was sparked only from the pain, not from myself. What if I read so much just because I didn't want to deal with the relentless thoughts that circled my head like a centaur that has been nailed to a merry-go -round to serve as a seat for booger-covered children, and has developed an extreme migraine from the high pitched music that will never end and the constant spinning of the world that never seems to settle? Once again, who's to say?

I certainly hope that with my diagnosis, and therefore an end to a lot of significant torture and spinning, my love for reading and writing will blossom. Maybe now I can finally take off, and soar free among my bird of hope (who by the way is doing well keeping her eggs warm). Now that my head is finally cleared of any ridiculous metaphor that I could come up for obsession, I can make room for what I will only dream as my own true passions... interests.