Well then, its been another wee while since I had the urge to waffle away here for a bit. Aren’t you lucky, the urge struck again…….
I posted some pictures of myself, selfies to be exact to Instagram yesterday because I was feeling pretty good about myself. And it got me to thinking.
What would others think, the cheek of me posting a few selfies because I was feeling good. Would others think it arrogant, big headed, narcissistic even? And then, I thought. Fuck that! I feel great, I’ve lost some weight, I can see my cheek bones again and I’m loving my pink hair. Why shouldn’t I shout that from the rooftops? Well, Instagram but you know what I mean.
The realisation that it’s no one else’s job to like me, it’s my job; took me a very long time. I constantly craved love and needed validation. That inevitably came from the wrong places and ultimately made my insecurities a hundred times worse in the long run. All of this from teenage years really meant I ended up in doomed relationships because I was seeking something that only I could give myself but I disliked myself so intensely, I had no idea where or how to begin.
Of course, I tried to fake that confidence and had years of hiding horrific paranoia and a crippling lack of self confidence. I would pick away at every minute detail about myself and spent many many years despising my body, my face, my personality and anything else about myself that I could hate on. I was incredibly angry all the damn time.
There were toxic partners and friends and sometimes because of my own self loathing, I would be the toxic one. That’s a hard one to take on but it is the truth and something to live with. Not to obsess over but to acknowledge definitely. And each time a relationship failed for whatever reason, it would all just feel worse. This never ending feeling of mental free fall but trying with everything you have to hold on for dear life. Absolutely fucking exhausting stuff.
I have never been glad or happy that my body finally gave up and I became physically ill. That’s a ridiculous notion and I absolutely fucking hate the limitations that brought with it. For a while, that made everything a hundred times worse because then everything fell apart and I lost all purpose to life; or that’s what it felt like at the time. Now though, looking back it was a ridiculously fucked up blessing in disguise. Approximately 3 years ago, the road to recovery began. Now, when you already hate yourself and you get ill and you can’t get out of bed and you pile on a huge amount of weight. It’s a difficult feeling to describe. Please do not think for a single second that I’m piling in to any fat shaming, this was purely personal and selfish. Just another reason to beat myself up.
I felt sorry for myself and I wallowed for a bit. I think that when you feel that bad, you have to sit with it and feel it. Otherwise how do you ever hit rock bottom and try to figure out a way back up? Rock bottom is just that, absolute suffocating hopelessness and then something changes and you can begin to get some kind of distant light at the end of the proverbial tunnel. For me, as I’ve mentioned many times in these posts. That very first glimmer of light was therapy that I could actually understand and begin responding to.
None of that initial therapy was aimed at loving myself. When you’re in crisis, you just need to stabilise yourself first and foremost. Later in my second round of therapy, I learned that my constant bashing of myself was like beating someone physically all day every day and by that time I’d been doing it for so long I wasn’t entirely aware of how bad it was.
Learning to be kinder to yourself is an awkward process. When something is so alien to you, you feel daft taking part in the therapy tasks. Every part of your daily routine has to be looked at. My inner commentary was stuck on some stern school mistress and not the kinky kind!
Anyway, I’m rambling a bit but what I’m trying to get to the point of is when you feel that rubbish and you finally manage to get your head down and put in the work. Ride the roller-coaster of ups and downs, false starts, set backs, flare ups and the rest of the ridiculous shit that actually happens. Then wee miracles begin to happen.
Don’t by any means think that means I love myself every damn day, that’d just be really creepy. Of course, I still have days where I hate my body and how difficult I find it to lose weight. I still give myself a hard time about ridiculous things as well as the real things that I should be giving myself a pep talk about. Loving yourself doesn’t mean you just ignore the stuff that needs some stern talking. It’s knowing when you need to try and be kind and gentle to yourself and when you need to give yourself a good kick up the arse. It’s about stopping comparing yourself to others, living with yourself and making choices just for you, deciding on a way forward and quietly making that work, taking selfies and posting to the world that you feel good that day! Maybe not just falling in love with yourself but falling in love with the life you are creating.
Ultimately doing you unapologetically and deliberately and loving it.
Peace and love 💜
P. S Just know that I’ll have made someone close read this before posting to make sure it’s OK! So don’t let me fool you that I’m absolutely totally in love with me 😉