I've been kind of nostalgic for "the old me" lately. Not for the eating disordered, drug-addled, promiscuous old me, but for the super confident, fun-loving, passionate me. Of course, they were the same person-being thin made me "confident," pot made me fun, and I was passionate about sex. But I've been wishing I could have the good parts without the bad. That's a hard thing to do. Stability and good health have made me feel kind of settled and boring.
I'm sure I could have all the good parts back if I tried. It's just that I've associated so many of my old personality traits and behaviors-even harmless ones-with all the bad stuff for so long that I've forgotten the healthy ways to express them. Besides that, I'm still getting used to actually having a good life. Most of my life was crap for a long time, exciting as it may have been. Sure, there were good times mixed in there. But overall I was really living in hell. So "exciting and fun" in my mind is pretty thoroughly entangled with "scary and dramatic." I'm still trying to figure out how to do "exciting and fun" in a safe and positive way.
I hate being so scared of new things. I used to be so fearless and adventurous because I really didn't have much to lose. It was easy to take risks because there wasn't too much that could go more wrong than it already was. Now that I'm in a better place personally, I don't want to take any major leaps because I know where the bottom is, I spent a lot of time there, and if I take a wrong step I could fall right back there. It's terrifying.
What's brought all this to the surface is that I've been talking lately with a few old friends who were part of the GOOD stuff in my life during the darkest days. I've missed them terribly. They stayed with me during most of my ups and downs- they dragged me out of the scariest holes I found, and they kept me tethered when I was about to fly right out of my mind for one reason or another. They knew how to make me smile. Granted, a couple of them in particular also knew how to make me cry, but at the time I was so much more appreciative of negative feelings. That's another thing I miss-the knowledge that if I was crying, at least it meant I was alive. Now crying scares the shit out of me, because it might mean that I'm "slipping."
These friends are in my soul. Certain sounds, smells and sights immediately bring them to mind. I was honestly scared that they may not like this new, somewhat more sane me, but it seems that they do. The problem is that I don't. I mean, I love not wanting to kill myself half the time. I love feeling safe in my home-hell, HAVING a home. I love feeling in control of my own decisions. But I don't love this feeling that if I put one toe outside the lines of the box I've put myself in, I'll collapse into the same hell that I ripped all my fingernails off trying to crawl out of. I don't love feeling so sterile and dry that I can barely remember what it felt like to just DANCE, inside and out.
I don't know what to do or how to fix this. I need to find a happy medium-I need to come back to myself without losing my sanity. I always swore that I'd never be afraid to live, and in the last few weeks I've realized that I am. It's a shitty feeling, and I'm kind of angry at myself now.