In January when I closed my Facebook account I said I was going to focus on my blogs. Well, clearly that did not happen.
I taught myself how to knit and crochet again. I cooked. I baked. My life was taken over by Pinterest but at least I was being creative. Rocco had the coolest home made valentines in his class. Steven got a hand knit scarf that winter. And I kept myself busy creating new things in the kitchen.
But I miss blogging. I love writing. But in order to write I need to have something to say. I remember my sister telling me when I started my blog that "blogs become books". We will see.
So, today I was flooded with some memories that have stayed with me all day. I've been reflecting on my past and comparing it to my future. Not in a critical way. And I hope I never stop seeing change.
I was in cycle class this morning. It is hard. It continues to be hard even though I have been cycling once or twice a week since I had Rocco.
Three songs into class my heart was pounding. I was very well aware of my heart. It made me think of all of the years I spent in the past fearful of that beat. Focused on that rhythm.
I was starving myself. Throwing up. Smoking cigarettes. Doing drugs, Drinking daily. Consuming mass amounts of coffee.
My heart was abused. It stopped. It skipped beats. It pounded. It fluttered.
Sometimes I wondered when it was going to stop for good. How long was I going to get away with living like this? There were times I wanted to die. Not bad enough to take my own life. But I often thought God would just spare me one of those awful nights and end it all. Peacefully in my sleep. My heart would just stop beating.
I was aware of my heart when I had just finished my fourth 20 oz cup of coffee for the day.
I would notice my heart after I snorted a few lines of cocaine with nothing in my body but red wine for 24 hours.
I would notice my heart when I was making myself throw up for the 4th time that day. After breakfast.
I noticed it when I would have to walk any length or lift something. Because I was weak. Feeble. Dying.
I noticed my heart when it pumped like a machine gun in the middle of an anxiety attack that was most likely induced by alcohol withdrawal and starvation.
It amazes me that when I see doctors they tell me I'm the 'picture of perfect health'.
Today I am tremendously grateful I have done no damage to my heart.
It skips once in a while. It flutters from time to time. But I have a mild thyroid issue and was told it is pretty common.
I am not focused on my heartbeat anymore. It feels good when it pounds. I'm usually excited about something. It is usually a sign that I am working my body. Something I am actually able to do today.
I am not going to die. Nor do I want to. I want to live a long time.
Because today I have love in my heart. Mind blowing, over the top, joyous, magnificent, magical love. Love for things. Love for people. Love for food. Love for God.
Love for life.
