Some days my relationship with myself is a good one. Sometimes I love how my eyes aren’t quite that shade of blue but neither are they green; that my legs look as if they are never-ending; and that my ability to pull the most stupid faces brings a smile to my husband’s face (or maybe it’s a oh-god-she’s-doing-it-again-grimace).
I also love how ambitious I am, and how I can roll out of bed with fire in my veins to get things done. That I can tick off at least 3 things before my husband wakes up (because yay for productive weekends!). How I want to be the best version of myself and work damn hard to get there. That when I have an idea, I never settle, I just want to get it done right away.
Those days are the best days because the world seems like a brighter place. I have a spring in my step and that feeling that I could conquer the world, false lashes an’ all.
sweater: ralph lauren / skirt & boots: boohoo / belt: ma*rs / jewellery: muse
But other days my relationship with myself isn’t a good one. Sometimes I’d wake up, slowly, and I already want the day to end. I’d fall down the dark hole of being exhausted by how hard I work and thinking that nothing comes out of it anyway, so what’s the point? That I’m forever trying to do my best but I will never be good enough. Those were the days where I hated my body and wanted to hide myself in my baggy pjs and never leave the comfort of my bed. My stupid eyes, my stupid facial expressions, and my stupid long legs that find trouble fitting into my jeans.
My day would be spent with my eyes glued to the phone, where my happiness is determined by numbers, which only ends in sadness.
Those days aren’t so great and the world seems like a darker place. I drag my feet with such effort that I question why I even left my bed.
Fortunately, I don’t get many of those bad days. Sure, they’ve been happening a lot more recently, but I’m starting to notice the ‘warning signs’. I know it’s a bad day when I check my phone and fall into the comparison game that my instagram photo didn’t get as much attention as so and so. Or if I didn’t get any comments in this blog, or if I haven’t received as many likes on Facebook. It is all about the numbers.
So I’ve started to have arguments with myself. Call me crazy, but for me it bloody works. Whenever my brain tells me something stupid like, ‘oh, your post only has three comments’ I respond by thinking, ‘yes, but my blog post has three comments from three people who took the time out of their day to make a comment, and that’s amazing‘. Combating the bad thoughts about my body was actually easier than ones revolving around social media, and most of the time it’s almost natural to respond with something good about myself.
What is your relationship with yourself like? How do you overcome your gloomy days?
Love,
Lizzie xx