I am far from perfect.
I know I’ve spent the last few posts preaching the importance of taking this time to really dig deep and love myself, but the truth is I haven’t even been following my own advice.
Let me be really honest: I’ve spent a good portion of the last four months after my breakup seeking happiness from outside sources—at the bottom of a bottle of red wine, through flirtatious text messages and suggestive Snapchat selfies, in food (so much food), and, as Drake would say, by wearing less and going out more (“Hotline Bling” has essentially become the anthem of my life).
I found myself getting upset when guys wouldn’t text me back or ask me out—not because I had any type of emotional connection with them, but simply because I was seeking that type of attention from another man so bad. I was so desperate to fill that void after my breakup that I was looking for it wherever I could find it, including the oh-so-typical guys from my past (so cliché of me, I know).
And if I didn’t find it in guys, there was always one thing I could rely on: booze.
There were nights over the last few months that I drank so much I didn’t remember full-blown conversations. On my best friend Chrissy’s birthday, I threw up all over the place—while staying the night at my dad’s house, mind you—and couldn’t even manage to make it to her surprise birthday brunch that I planned the next day (I blamed it on food poisoning, but I know she didn’t believe me for one second). And don’t even get me started on the amount of Carl’s Jr. I’ve drunkenly consumed throughout all of this.
Speaking of food, I lost track of my regimen. Working out and eating healthy are two of the most important aspects of my life. But after the breakup, I sort of put that all to the wayside and made room for wine, carbs and watching tear-inducing rom-coms instead.
Even though none of this was good for me, it was, in a sense, good for me.
I realized I was meant to go through this…so I can pick myself back up and really appreciate my health, my happiness, my emotional stability and my passion to—here it goes—love myself, entirely, with no outside distractions.
I could spend days, months, years even chastising myself for succumbing to all the negative effects I knew the breakup would bring, but what would be the point in that? Criticizing myself would only lead to further unhappiness, which would continue the circle of poor habits.
Instead, I’m choosing to embrace all of it—to laugh over the drunken nights and lost memories, the embarrassing Snapchat posts and quantities of chicken stars consumed. I’m counting the missed pilates and spin classes as money saved, and I’m shrugging off the dudes who never responded to my 2AM text messages (probably better they didn’t anyway).
All of these things (mistakes, you might call them) have helped mold me into the woman I am at this very moment: someone who sees her flaws, understands the things that have set her back and is dedicated to moving forward in a more positive direction.
No, continuing a lifestyle like this is not good for me, but I’m glad I went through it because I now have a revitalized determination to be better than before. I’m at the foundation of my new life and ready to build myself back up using the tools from within my own heart and soul and recreating a happiness that derives from within me—not men or alcohol or outside attention.
In fact, this month I’m giving myself a new challenge: no boys and no booze…at all.
February would have marked my four-year anniversary with my ex—Valentine’s Day to be exact—but instead of being sad about it and drinking a bottle (or three) of red wine, I’m going to go ahead find that love from within. No dates, no cheesy Hallmark cards and certainly no throwing myself a pity party about being single on the
stupid holiday for the first time in four years. Nope, sorry.
Instead, I’m taking time this month for me—29 days of just me. No boys. No Booze. No nothin’.
I’m going to go on early morning beach runs on Sunday in celebration of not being hung over. I’m going to read more, focus on moving forward in my career and stop wasting hours stalking my crushes on social media. I’m going to call my dad and have in-depth conversations about my purpose in life. And I’m going to write.
A colleague of mine (read her amazing blog here) gave me a genius idea: every night I’m going to pen a love letter to myself and read it the next morning, kicking off my day on a positive note and reminding myself just how fucking awesome I really am.
This all might sound a little boring to you, but I have a feeling great things (and great blog posts) will come from it. I’ll be sure to keep you posted and hope to encourage you to do the same some time.
And with that, I leave you a little bit of a Carrie Bradshaw conclusion:
We can choose to wallow in our flaws, our repeated mistakes and our cliché attempts at finding happiness in all the wrong places…Or we can look ourselves in the mirror, smile at the opportunity to learn a little more about ourselves and realize we are only human. We are not perfect, but we are exactly where we’re supposed to be—smeared mascara, a lingering taste of Carl’s Jr. in our mouths and a soon-to-be deleted Snapchat story and all!