Ninety Five

All through high school, up to maybe 20, 21, I had a washboard stomach. I was never self conscious about going to the beach or wearing shorter tops that showed my stomach when I lifted my arms to reach for something. I never felt the need to suck in constantly.

Now my stomach is a little squidgy and I feel conscious of the looming summer days. I’m fighting with myself – torn between wanting a flat stomach and knowing that I only want that because of the way media and advertising shape what we believe beauty is, that all bodies are beautiful and I should be okay with my squidge. But knowing these things, being cognisant of what’s influenced these thoughts, doesn’t take them away, doesn’t make me feel less self conscious about my stomach.

Probably the way to best fight these thoughts is to keep reminding myself that all bodies are beautiful but this feels like rolling shit uphill when everything else seems to be telling you otherwise. At the same time, I feel that the beauty ideals portrayed by media are changing – I see a lot more ads and posters with girls of different shapes and sizes. I love it. More celebration of different body types please and thank you.

Ninety Four

I’ve started seeing a new boy. It’s still really early days (we’ve only hung out three times so far) but today, for the first time since J, I thought to myself – yeah, I can do this again.

I’m a little excited, but mostly scared and apprehensive. With heartbreak comes wariness which can almost generate a self-fulfilling prophecy for rejection. I’m afraid of being heartbroken again so I find that I’m more reserved than I normally am, or was. I think that by controlling which parts I hold back, and which parts I slowly release, I can control my emotions and feelings, that I can protect my heart. But I also know that in doing this, I’m not giving O a good chance to know me, which is what I desire in the first place. I want to be known, and I miss being known, but the last guy who knew me, didn’t want me. I’m scared of that happening again.

Ninety Three

Some really satisfying things I did today:

  • Marking a reminder as “Complete” on my phone which has, up to this point, been a glaring red dot for the past 8 months
  • Sending a Christmas card to Canada
  • Lying on my parents’ couch and reading my new Julian Barnes book (MORE ON THIS LATER, IT’S SO GOOD OMG) in the sun while my mum cooks me dinner
  • Writing excel formulas that do what I want them to do

Ninety

Three months. Three measly months. Sounds like such a short amount of time but it’s been three months since I started this blog. Ninety days since crying publicly in a cafe and wondering how life could be so cruel, wondering if my heart would ever heal.

It has.

I remember writing in an earlier post about how it felt like the gaps between the broken pieces of my heart were filling from the inside out. That’s still how it feels. The broken pieces are still there, and I’m still really connected to the memory of that time when the sadness was crippling, but I feel more held together now, less disjointed by the pain.

I had another counselling session yesterday and afterwards when I was reflecting on our conversation, I realised that I was getting excited about the future again. There was a long time when the future didn’t feel like a friend and I couldn’t imagine or hope for anything beyond numbness. And now, without me realising, hope has snuck up on me and presented a future that I can be friends with again. Isn’t that just amazing?

It wasn’t until I realised this that I also saw how far I had come. Three months is a short amount of time but it’s also been a very long journey. Only in hindsight can I see how far I’ve travelled. This life thing is crazy!

Eighty Eight

Eighty eight looks weird, the more you look at it.

I ate too much at dinner tonight, forgetting that food takes a while to catch up with you so that while you’re eating, you don’t realise you’re getting full until later, especially after drinking water and everything expands. That’s me right now. I feel like a round ball.