Pushing on Bruises

I’m that girl with OCD, the girl that can’t eat in front of other people- that girl who can’t eat alone- the girl who chokes down her food every meal, never enjoying a single morsel. I’m that girl who dropped out of school a few times in her life. The same needy, oversensitive girl that seeks even the most pompous of asshole’s approval. I’m the one who’s never been to prom, the one who lost her virginity to a guy within hours of meeting him. I’m the big tease, the “cheater,” the stalker, the mother hen of the group, the goody-goody, the special one... The girl with a dirty past, and the girl that wants to share it. I’m that girl. I’m that girl…

Sitting in the living room just a few minutes ago, I found myself pressing down on a bruise I got dancing the conga line at my friend’s wedding. That was over a couple of weeks ago and probably would have been healed by now if I hadn’t been messing around with it. I’ve loved pressing on my bruises for as long as I can remember and thinking about it now, maybe I’ve always enjoyed it because it has shown me I’m stronger than anything life has thrown at me. That I can take more.

I have no outline writing this blog post- no big point to get across. I just know that when I let the screaming girl inside of me speak, my life gets a little less chaotic. My breath gets deeper and more mindful. My relationships are healthier. The more I ignore this girl, the more she will make me see her in other ways. She’ll act out, she’ll go freaking nuts with her OCD rituals, she’ll talk like a baby, she’ll meet up with guys, she’ll kick, fight, and yell bloody murder. So here I am looking at her, acknowledging her and loving her.

We all have these parts in ourselves. Our only true “self” is this deep pit buried in the center of our chests- this selfless, all loving, non-judgmental, content light. All the other stuff is just our egos floating around…our parts.