Fun

I've seen this before, and just recently it popped up again on my Facebook newsfeed, shared by one of my Mama friends.  I read it and smiled, because it's a really sweet sentiment and is, to an extent, true for me.  But more than that, it made me start thinking about what the word "fun" really means to me.

I cannot deny that my definition of "fun" has changed drastically over the years.

When I was 5, fun was climbing trees, building forts, getting dirty, playing on playgrounds, collecting rocks, catching slugs in jars, running around bases on an empty baseball diamond, swimming in the pool, going to the children's museum or the zoo, eating McDonalds Happy Meals every now and then, watching Beauty and the Beast or baking cookies with my mom.

When I was 10, fun was playing soccer, softball, or basketball, swimming on Swim Team in the summer, eating Hershey's Cookies & Cream bars, playing with sidewalk chalk, playing my Gameboy, playing with barbies (but don't tell my friends because that's not cool anymore), rollerblading, pretending to like boys, doodling, eating watermelon, chewing gum, lighting fireworks, going to Skate World, playing air hockey, exploring abandoned houses, playing in the swamp, going to Superplay or swimming in my friend's backyard pool.

When I was 15, fun was learning to drive, going shopping, doing dance and gymnastics, writing in my journal, chatting on Yahoo Messenger (shush it), buying copious amounts of lip gloss, playing with glittery makeup, crushing on boys for real, listening to music moodily in my bedroom, painting my nails each a different color, horseback riding, playing soccer, straightening my ( already very straight) hair, talking on the phone and buying new phone cases for my Nokia cellphone.

When I was 20, fun was working out every day, starving myself, trying to look thin in everything I wore, hating my body, cutting calories, calculating fat grams, weighing my food,  walking every chance I got, swimming for an hour or more every day, staying in destructive relationships despite my judgement, getting admitted to the hospital for anorexia, and almost dying from low phosphorus and malnutrition.

Wait... what?

Clearly something monstrous and monumental happened between ages 15 and 20.  I went from a typical, moody-yet-happy hormonal teenager who crushed on guys and occasionally forgot to shave my legs to a sick, unhappy, half-dead twenty-year-old girl with almost no sense of self-worth and shredded confidence.  When I was 20, I didn't know what the hell the word "fun" even meant anymore.

It's taken me almost a decade to get out of that abyss I managed to get myself into, and I'm still not out yet.  For whatever reason, I like to keep my toe in it just in case I feel the need to peek back into those waters and remind myself why I chose to fight it and leave it (mostly) in my past.  There's something about it that's comforting to me - probably the fact that it was my lifestyle for some of the biggest, most developmentally important years of my life.  The years that I learned to be independent, hold jobs, study, build relationships.  All those years were overshadowed by my eating disorder.  Everything I know about being an adult is tinted a lovely yet very confusing shade of anorexia nervosa.

Nevertheless, I persist.

Now, I'm 29 and fun is watching my daughter grow and flourish, laughing and joking with my husband, blowing out nearly three dozen candles on my birthday cake, taking vacations with my whole family, teaching Zumba, Aqua Fit and Cycle classes, going for runs, eating healthy and delicious food, shopping, blogging, biking, swimming, hiking, snowboarding, SCUBA diving, exploring forests and beaches, watching shooting stars, eating frozen yogurt with cookie dough pieces, watching documentaries, walking my dogs, reading books, hanging up Christmas lights, lighting the Hanukkah menorah, making friends and laughing till I cry.

I am one of the lucky ones.  My life has made a total 180 since the darkest days of my illness.  I am still re-learning what "fun" means because I find myself getting caught up in how my body looks or feeling insecure.  However, I've come to the realization that we ALL have insecurities about some things from time to time, whether it's body, mind, capabilities, etc.  I have yet to encounter anyone who is 100% comfortable with themselves 100% of the time.  

We are an imperfect species.  But being able to have fun, despite our sometimes unfortunate circumstances, is one of the most valuable skills a person can have, I believe.  If you sit around waiting for everything to be perfect before you do something, you'll never do anything.  

Still not sure about the "fun is a messy house" thing though.... I need to work on that one. ;)