Interviews I’ve went on: 9.
Interviews I’ve royally botched: 6ish.
Times I’ve thought about giving up and throwing in the towel after said botches: never.
Jobs I had: 2
Age I was when I first decided I wanted to become a librarian/writer: 11, because I was a very
strange awesome kid who spent a large chunk all of her time with her nose in a book and carried a Lisa Frank notebook with her at all times, just in case she came up with a great idea for a story.
Articles I wrote in the 9 months I have spent at my present job while simultaneously coming up with silly and heartfelt stories for the amazing Hellogiggles: 16. I’m not sure how I managed that. I’m also sure most of them are about pizza.
Number of borderline certifiable emails I sent my co-workers at Westwood: a lot, and they were all filled with jokes and real talk and honesty and I am so lucky to work with people who are as smart and funny and open as they are. I am grateful to have a team as strong as they are, a team who would literally do anything do anything for their students.
Name of the Divergent character played by Theo James, who is also the source of major eyebrow envy for girls everywhere, including yours truly: Four.
Price, in dollars, of the amount of Harry Potter memorabilia I purchased (books, t-shirts, i-Phone cases, etc.): never enough.
Books I checked out from the library: 259.
Books I bought: far too many.
Books I regret buying: 0
Time J.K. Rowling, Mrs. HP herself followed me on the tweet machine: ONCE AND HOLY BALLS WAS/IS IT AMAZING!!!
Minutes I cried over that Twitter follow: 15. I honestly did not know I cared that much but I regret nothing. (Everyone else knew I cared that much.)
People I hope being honest about my own story of kicking anorexia’s ass will help: even just one is more than enough. And every time I open up about what happened to me, the pain eases a little bit. Every time I have been honest about it, people have been receptive and understanding and kind. Every time, someone has reached out and told me they went through some of the same things, too. Every time, I feel less alone. After seven years of silence, that terrible bond is a bittersweet gift. I wouldn’t wish what I experienced on anyone, but the solidarity helps more than a lot of people will ever know.
Times I went to the gym: 284. Most of those visits were spent plowing through some miles on the treadmill while watching Dawson’s Creek. Pacey + Joey 4ever.
Weight (and life) I’ve gained: 10 glorious lbs, baby!
Amount I care: none, and to have gone from obsessively working out in order to match this unobtainable image of what I thought I should be, to working out for what it means to my mental health, to gain strength in more ways than one, is huge for me. I still have days of bad body image and times when I’m mean to myself, but they’re fewer and further between now. The girl who hated herself if she so much as ate a French fry feels miles and years away. Sometimes I even think she’ll never come back. I’m proud of that work.
Cookies I am glad I ate: all of them. Especially the Oreos. And the chocolate-chips. And the snickerdoodles. And the white-chocolate macadamia nuts.
Inches of locks I chopped off and donated to kids who needed it more than me: 9, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.
Tattoos I got: 2, even though I bet my dad I would never get another one. I’m sincerely hoping he doesn’t come to collect his winnings.
Total number of tattoos as of today: 6 (!!)
Beautiful Colorado sunsets I’ve witnessed: one more that seems to always and forever take my breath away.
Numbers I deleted: 1
Years it was stored in my phone: 2
Years it took me to delete it: one and a half. It’s hard to say good bye to something, and especially something you spent so much time on because it feels like you wasted those years of your life. But I didn’t waste them. I learned a lot about myself, and what I want and need in a relationship, and ruled out one more place where I won’t find those things. It was a lesson learned slowly. It was a lesson worth learning.
Dates I went on: a handful, all of which were perfectly fine, but never resulted in anything, and that’s okay. I know better than to spend my time dwelling over anything less than extraordinary, because I simply don’t have the time to do that. They were practice runs. They were necessary.
Amount of love found: endless, but all in my friends. And they were friends I’d had for years, and friends I’d grown closer to, and friends I made on social media and at work and at parties and on the intramural softball field. And they are all fiercely talented, extremely funny, amazingly warm-hearted people, and I am lucky to know every last one of them.
Jokes I made on the Facebook/Twitter: innumerable.
Jokes I made that I thought were actually funny: all of them. I think I’m hilarious. Wait, no. I know I’m hilarious.
Length of time it took me to develop the self-esteem to say that: far too long. And in 2016, I will learn how to take compliments and say thank you and assert myself more, all because accepting praise and being gracious aren’t a sign of narcissism — they’re a sign that you know your own self-worth. And that is as important a tool as anything else in this world, especially when other people will always aim to tear you down. So here’s to 2015, and everything it brought — but also to the coming year, and everything that it has in store.