Getting Up in the Morning is Success
Warning: Shit's about to get real up on this blog, so if you're not into hearing about real life, then it's time to move on before things get serious. I figure it's my blog, so I can say that and no hard feelings. I think what I think, and I write what I write, and you gotta take the good with the bad. And I'm about to strip my soul bare, and get real ugly.
I got stood up tonight. It's the first time I've ever been stood up at 27 so I figure I could call that pretty lucky, but it's the final straw in a long series of terrible dates, and the coup de grâce in the spiral whirlwind that's been my life for the last year. If you have seen the tv series Selfie, I almost feel like I'm Eliza Dooley in the tenth episode where she binge drinks in a crazy, blurred, partying, karaoke montage--spiraling slowly and blindly out of control (alcoholism not included here personally).
Don't get me wrong. I love my life more than I ever have before, but it's also never been so hard. I am lost, overwhelmed, and frozen. I haven't blogged consistently in months and months. I have written tons of recipes and several drafts of blog posts. I've got several cookbooks stacked up for reviewing (they're all excellent, by the way, because I know the bloggers are food geniuses). I have plans for the blog, and yet I see the list a mile long, and I quit. I feel pulled a million different directions with no clear focus of which path I want to follow. Work, blog, food prep, social life, love life, on and on and on. I've gone through a couple hard breakups that hurt to let go of, and bitter friendships that burned even as much as I knew I needed to kick the negativity and toxicity out of my life. I'm on a super tight budget, living paycheck to paycheck, trying to pay all my bills and hope I run out of month before I run out of money, and doing it all by myself with barely any support to fall back on. My family is stretched out across the states, and I'm still completely alone in a city that doesn't feel like home. I have some great friends, but I've never felt more lonely in my life. I'm a hairstylist. I touch people hundreds of times a day, every day, and yet I can't tell you the last time someone touched me for more than 30 seconds. Days? Weeks? Months?
I haven't been able to stick to AIP for more than a couple days at a time. Dairy here, alcohol there, soy here, etc, etc, etc. Minor triggers in small amounts, and yet it all adds up. I haven't posted about it much, or talked about it much, because as my blog gets viewed/shared more and more, I feel pressured to maintain an image more than ever. But that's not fair--to me or to you. To anyone. I'm not a icon; I don't want to be put on a pedestal. I'm real and down to earth, and I'm not different than anyone of you. I live in a small apartment with two cats. I have multiple autoimmune diseases. I go to work 5 days a week. I like the beach, and I like going out with friends. I'm not special. I just chose to write about it.
AIP is more than just food, it's more than just a diet. You've seen it a hundred times, and here it is again, because it's so true. I don't have all the answers. I'm still working on the patch of psoriasis at the base of my scalp. I'm still working on the joint pain that triggers with minor inflammation. I'm still working on the anxiety that continues to interfere with my relationships. And some days, I have no fricking clue what I'm even doing or if plugging away constantly is making any more progress than just a hamster on a wheel.
And guess what? I don't think anybody else really truly knows either. We're all trying to figure out the same things. We're just all going about it in different ways. And truly? Plugging away at it constantly without giving up is progress. Because I went after what I wanted.
And I didn't quit.
