I know you’ve heard this a thousand times: 2016 sucked. But for me, it really did. Everything about last year was hard, even the good stuff. I got married to my absolute favorite person on the planet, but getting there led me to a lot of truths I didn’t want to know, but needed to know — not just about the people around me, but about myself.
Basically, I stopped caring. You know when you were in college and you had 75 assignments due on Monday but it was too overwhelming to think about, so instead, you just watched Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix for seven hours? That’s what all of 2016 was for me.
I wanted to lose the weight that’s been holding me back for years and get into really good shape for my wedding. I wanted to have a blast with my friends. I wanted to make memories I knew would last forever. But I got crushed under the pressure of trying to create one perfect day, of how badly I wanted to be the most beautiful I’ve ever looked on that perfect day.
So instead, I ate. I drank wine. I watched Grey’s Anatomy all the way through, then Parks & Rec, and then Grey’s Anatomy again, from the beginning. I sat on the floor of my shower and cried. I scowled at other people’s perfect wedding pictures. I stopped taking my antidepressants. I gained weight. I started birth control and gained more weight. I blamed everyone but myself, and then I blamed only myself. I apologized to my husband for making him marry a fat bride, and then I didn’t believe him when he told me I was wrong. I posted a photo on Instagram and tried to predict the parts of my body people would notice were larger. They’d see that my face was chubbier, for sure. And I should probably stop smiling with my teeth, because they’re ugly. And then I deleted the photo.
This wasn’t always me, you know. I used to get things done. I used to wear dresses with bows in my hair.
I wasn’t nice to myself. I’m not nice to myself.
But when the clock ticked over to midnight on January 1, 2017, I felt a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders. The calendar changed. I was free. It was a beginning.
I know all about beginnings. I’ve had millions. I began to lose weight. I began to stop letting the people in my life walk all over me. I began to eat healthier, to exercise, to bring the cup on my night stand downstairs before that one cup became 12. I know all about beginnings. I don’t know about endings — not the kind that come when you reach a goal that you’re proud of, anyway. What are those like? I want to find out.
But before I can do that, I have to accept a few simple truths:
- Literally no one cares what I put on my Instagram. I’m not Kylie Jenner.
- If I want to lose weight, I cannot spend 12 hours a day on the couch or in my bed.
- And I also can’t keep eating cheeseburgers, because where do you think this giant ass came from?
- I am the only person who can change what I want to.
- And changing is not fun or easy; it’s just going to suck.
- I am responsible for my happiness. Everyone else is responsible for their happiness. NOT ME.
And speaking of happiness? That’s why I felt free, because I have a new chance to finally find it, to eat healthy, to get off the couch and out of my bed, to remember to take my damn Lexapro every day as soon as I wake up. And that’s why I’m starting this blog.
My favorite place, the place where the anxiety disappears, is Disney World. So this year, I’m doing something nice for myself. Last month, I bought myself and my husband annual passes, and I’m going to make as many trips there as I possibly can inside the next 12 months. Two of my best friends, Alisha and Jacie, have also bought passes, and we’re already planning our trips, adventures of happiness and drinking in every country in Epcot and just being content. I have a job that allows me to work anywhere the internet is, and I don’t take advantage of it nearly enough.
So that’s what this blog is for. I’m going to write about something I’m very passionate about, even if no one reads it. I’m going to open up like this a lot, talking about things that make me uncomfortable to type. I’m going to begin, and I’m going to end.
It’s going to be like, eat, pray, love. Except with no praying. And more eating. And alcohol. And the food is all shaped like Mickey… and when it’s not, you’ll know it’s much healthier than what I would have eaten in the past. And sadly, Julia Roberts is unable to make it.
The adventure begins tomorrow when Alisha, Haley, and I pull out around five in the morning to take Haley on her very first Disney trip ever. I plan to use this space to keep everyone updated on our traveling this year — what we drink, what we eat, what we love, and what might be helpful to you if you love this happy place as much as I do, or plan to visit in the future.
Thank you for reading this. I know it was a lot. And if you enjoy reading private things about strangers you only kind of know like I do, I think you’re going to like this a lot.