Looking back at my initial posts such as this one, that one, and even the one about my previous battle with bulimia, i’m really thankful that i started my blog. firstly, it has let me talk about stuff i’ll never be able to tell someone face-to-face. in addition, it has helped me show a different side of myself to people who know me. on the surface, i may seem like a shiny happy individual leading my shiny happy life. but no, everyone has their fair share of ups and downs. i don’t want to fool people; i want them to know who i really am inside. and i’d like to thank everyone who didn’t shirk away from me even after knowing my imperfections and morbid-ness, but instead still accepted me and treated me normally. :)

i spent my weekend at church camp, which always helps me shake off my ghosts. i entered camp with a sense of dreading. i wanted to just give it all up, this whole “church” shit, and just go back to the meandering lifestyle i had. i didn’t know my role and purpose in church. hell, i didn’t know what “purpose” meant. i was just living for the moment. the wheels of my existence got caught in fine sand, and i was just spinning around energetically, making lots of noise and splattering brown slush all over.

suddenly, on the 6th of december, towards midnight, i knew. i realised. it was time to put the junk back in the trunk. it was time to give up the fake, to throw out the hate, to give and not to take. at one point i questioned myself: why me? why was i the child of the broken family, the one with the pain, the immense hate inside? why did i yearn for the fake glossy lifestyle that was not meant for me? and why couldn’t i let go of it all? instead i held it all inside, brooding, cynical.

that night, i let go of it all. yes, i had been bulimic, possibly bipolar, depressive, neurotic, morbid, (or ‘emo’ as you may call it), hateful, angry, restless. but these experiences were totally worth it. i had been through alot of shit, that was true, and i’ve had my fair share of sleepless nights on wet pillows. but it was all meant to mould me, to shape me, to build me up. it was like emotional and mental exercise, testing me, pushing me to the limits, stretching the muscle of my courage. and i pulled through. i’m proud to say that, despite all the shit i faced, i’ve never once contemplated suicide, never imagined cutting my wrist, nor other similar stuff. i always thought of it as yet another experience. during the camp, someone came up to me and said, “You know, you’re a brave girl.” i never thought of myself as brave, but on hindsight, i probably am.

but there was one more step to go, and that was letting go of the bitterness as a result of all the “experiences” and “adventures” of my wee life insofar. on the 6th if december, i made a choice to do just that. i’ve deleted the phone numbers of people in my foggy past, i’m kissing my depression good-bye. i’m throwing my dad, my past, my pain and all the junk, back into the trunk. i’m still searching for stuff to throw away.

it’s not gonna be easy. i might just find myself digging the trunk one day, taking back all the garbage that i once threw out. but i know that when that day comes, i’ll be a different person. no longer stuck in fine sand, but charging at full speed, cos God’s my engine now, and His Word is my fuel.