Is Self-Love Enough?

I love myself, it has been a journey but I truly do.

Sure, there are features about myself I don’t like but I wouldn’t change it.

However, as my as I love myself, I don’t think I am “beautiful”. Because I am not and that’s okay. So when someone compliments my appearance or calls me beautiful, my immediate reaction is that voice in my head shouting “liar!”

And I think back to the boy who called me ugly when I was 12. So why am I so quick to assume he is right?

Is the fact that I love myself and think I have other redeemable qualities enough? Or do I need to think I have it all, when I don’t?

Is self-love the absence of self-loathing?

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A Rare Display of Some Much Needed Positivity

I’m trying to dash a little positivity and self love on my blog (and life) instead of it being littered with cynicism and self deprication, which has been on it for years. So for the usual self pitying posts and sad thoughts read anything else on my blog except this one post. I will still be as cynical as ever but I can put it on hold for one post.

In theory, 2018 should be a hard year for me. Someone like me who is a little bit of a loose cannon emotionally, this should have been a toughie. It was like starting from zero. I graduated in 2017 and had failed to secure a job in the new year and continued a job where people severely annoy me (not the workers, they alright but never underestimate the stupidity of the general public).
I work part time with so much time in between, whilst all my friends are either working full time or are still studying. While I have all this free time by myself, I should feel alone or I should feel empty. Especially when all my life I have been busy Monday to Saturday. It was easy to feel sad.

But for once I haven’t. Where I could feel sad and procrastinate and ignore my choices in life. This was truly the time for self reflection to which I still procrastinated. But guilt-free procrastination with no consequences, I didn’t know such a life existed.

Not too many people get to know themselves, understand what they want; instead life is thrust toward them without a breather. I still don’t know what I want but I’m closer.

I had no need to procrastinate so my creativity depleted in a very negative way. I learnt I do my best work when I really should not. But when in my life will I ever get this opportunity to do whatever I want? Wake up, write, do whatever, whenever. This was it. It was a new start.

I did apply for a lot of jobs with no outcome, just plenty of rejections. I have to admit I didn’t write or draw as much as I want because I was simply so uninspired but I didn’t just stay in bed and watch shows I don’t really care about.

Finally after many months of wihtholding exercise, it was time. Self improvement had to begin so self loathing could stop. No more self deprication, well only for humour purposes. Purely because I had so much time I didnt know what to do with, I started to exercise whenever I could, forcing myself to do it even when I didn’t want to. Eventually it became part of my schedule. And months on, I have never felt better. I have never been completely happy with my body, my stomach never be flat enough, my arms too much area of the bat wings, not having a singular chin. I lost a few kilos (not nearly as much as I wanted to) and felt good. The weight stopped being a problem, I didn’t have the need to contantly weigh myself because I was feeling good. I fit better in clothes, I fit into clothes which I couldn’t squeeze into for years. I couldn’t see too much of the impact but literally everyone else could. Regardless, I was getting more comfortable with my body even if I couldn’t see the results like everyone else. Then it happened, I was exercising one day. and I felt- MUSCLES. Like muscles I’ve never had before. It didnt matter that the weight was coming back because I liked how my body was turning out. Like I am a long way from my ideal and even though I am exercising, my diet needs to follow.

I was doing a good job keeping myself happy and healthy. I wasn’t feeling down or depressed. I genuinely felt good. It was like those years I spent feeling like shit were so distant. When, in reality, they really weren’t. The feeling of sadness seemed so strange to me, like even if I wasn’t happy, being sad was always automatically followed but now it was contentment and just living. With that mindset things felt like they were falling into place. I was getting somewhere on the job front too. I was getting some interviews and assessment centres and then eventually I got a job offer. An actual good job in engineering.

(Also why is it when I got a job more offers were coming through. Too little too late bud.)

That is pretty much my life right now. It hasn’t been too crazy or eventful. But its been good. I needed it.

Nameless

I have always hated my name. I can’t remember the last time it was said without spite or malice. It held no meaning, nor had a definition that could be found. At most it was a mess of letters. My father seldom said my name but on those rare occasions where he did indeed utter it, it would only be to scold me or worse. I haven’t heard my name in for a significant period of time either, not from my mouth or anybody else’s. The prominent memories, or only remaining memories, being me laying face down on the bloody ground with sharp pains shooting across my entire body while chocking back tears, a scene which became all too familiar. Over time I learnt the tricks that would not annoy my father, therefore he had no reason to mention my name, whilst everyone else in my presence is too hung up on pleasantries, resulting in them calling me sir or prince.

But now I sit here, in front of a woman I admire and quite possibly love, as I hear as my name rolled of her tongue so beautifully. She said it so nonchalantly in the middle of a conversation, such an innocent setting. Yet I am rendered speechless. As I pause not knowing how to reply, she repeated my name again. Not knowing the effect it had on me. Completely unknowing that I could have cried from the mere sound of it. I haven’t heard it in years and I had completely disassociated from that name.

Then I remembered, the person gave me my name, not my contemptuous father. No, the first lady who loved me and who I had lost too young, had gifted that name with love. I once felt that love from that name. She had picked it out, so carefully, especially for me. “Your name means bravery, bravery to love and to fight. You’re so brave and so strong, my son.”

As my name was repeated in the present day with such care, said with love and it will again from this moment onward. My new beginning had started from that minuscule moment.

I love how she says my name. I love my name.

A Letter To Someone 

To Mum, 

Thank you for all you’ve done. I know we both mutually piss each other off. I know sometimes I’m a piece of shit. But thank you for your endless support. For letting me do what I want. Not questioning my life choices. Always being the happiest when something good happens. Thinking I’m actually good as I am. Thinking I’m beautiful.
I want to let you know how much I admire your strength which is often undermined. Also, to say that you’re so compassionate more than anyone I know. It’s not just a mum thing, only you can be so compassionate and forgiving. It’s not a weakness, never let it be your weakness. It’s another strength.
I just want to say I love and admire you. I also would like to say that I want you to follow those dreams you’ve had but didn’t persevere. I want you to make it. I don’t want them to give you a reason to not finish. You’ll make it because you are you.
For all you believed in me, I know you can do it.

Love from a daughter who doesn’t deserve you.

The 30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 7

Day 7: Spoil the ending of your favourite movie without any context.

The handsome man storms the castle with his two new found comrades. It was a miracle that he was alive and even more of a miracle that he broke out of his paralysis so fast, with the from the help of an eccentric old man and his wife.

As a group, they cleverly come up with a plan to scare off the guards without sheer brute force. There are two main goals that these misfits want to achieve: love and revenge.

The handsome man in true fashion defeats the evil prince and saves his princess, whilst in that time still manages to say a great speech. thus, his quest for true love is complete.

By contrast, the other man is after the blood. He is seeking vengeance from the man who destroyed his life, who made his life he once knew disintegrate around him. The man who made him a killer. This ensues an epic sword fight where the noble gentleman is so close to losing, but at the last second, by a divine force, he manages to win.

This man leaves the revenge business and has new prospects. The last gentleman is simply happy to see this friend move on. Finally, they all leave the castle together on white horses.

Then it ends with a kiss. A truly passionate and pure kiss.

[For anyone who has watched this movie it is so obvious, otherwise it probably just seems too cheesy.]

I Can’t Deal With Unwanted Attention

My blog is by no means a relationship feed or filled with articles about boys. I am no Carrie Bradshaw and have no intention to be.
I think I have made it clear on this site that I am destined to be spinster. Especially seeing as I am terrified of commitment and much rather spend time with my friends discussing cats or fictional characters.
I make my need for a relationship clear in real life. With men and women alike, saying that I don’t see myself in a relationship and can’t stand the effort of other people beyond friendship.
But why oh why do guys think that I am not being serious. Why do they think my insults is flirting? Why must they put me on an awkward situation?

I appreciate men who friendzone me and I friendzone them, being friends and understand the boundaries. But some boys think that if I refer to them as a buddy and thinl that they should flirt anyway. My body is not capable of flirting, my childish face, bad hair and chubby stomach screams unattractive. I’m not trying to not look good but it happens.

The experience that spurred this one was that one “friend” who I haven’t seen in a few months, started to be more awkward than usual. In the past I have spoken about girls that he may like and my views on relationships so it’s pretty clear that I don’t want any unnecessary attention. In general I tend to have awkward reactions to very explicit conversations. Today in particular he singled me out of my friends and sat a little to close to comfort. Asked me about things that I haven’t told him, so clearly seen via snap chat months ago. He chose to spend time sitting with me than with his own friends until I told him that he should go. But not before hearing my friend mention something about my bra size under her breath. To which he continued to pester me about which size I really was. I told him very clear that I wasn’t gonna tell him but he made remarks that he wasn’t gonna quit. He then returned and mentioned about it again. My friends just made jokes that they were right that he wasn’t a friend and just an awkward fuckboy.

I haven’t noticed before but I’ve been told many times that he’s checked me out head to toe when my back is turned. Also the fact that he only greets my group of friends when I’m around. Which he makes an effort to sit next to me even asking me to move my belongings and make space for him. The worst thing is when he tries to touch my feet cos I put my legs on the table (with shoes obviously. But it’s still weird.)

People would probably just say if you were attracted to him it would be different. And to that I would say maybe. I haven’t been attracted to a real person I’ve met since I was 13 and I only fall for people with a personality to match mine and I need to know someone very very well before I get those romantic feelings. And I hate that he thinks he knows me well. The reason I’m not attracted to him is because of him. His face is decent and I can see if people are attracted to him but thinking about his face makes me feel sick.

I wanna be nice but don’t wanna give out the wrong impression. I’m done with the inappropriate comments, kissy faces and the touching.

The main reason I wrote this is because I feel weird but at the same time feel like I’m over exaggerating.
Why do guys flirt with friends? Or am I just being too sensitive?

Goodbye

She was a stranger. She smiled at me. She was cute and didn’t look like a trouble maker like other kids. She helped me up when I fell. I asked her, “why are you so nice to an old lady?” She replied plainly that it was “because were the same, I need someone to help me up, when I fall too.” That made me like her.
So I watched her as she smiled and walked off. Mumbling a word I couldn’t hear.

She was in my school. She was just a girl, she got annoyed and would argue and curse but she was happy. Not content, actually happy. She wasn’t the prettiest, she was nice enough, but didn’t really want to be there sometimes. I remember asking her one time what she would do afterwards and she said “to be honest I just want to get out of this shithole. I wanna help people, make them smile.” These words made me respect her.
I saw her smile as she continued to daydream. Mumbling a word I couldn’t hear.

She was my friend. Offering kind advice and being there for everyone. Joking around and laughing together. She had a fiery personality but a bit shy with everyone else. She would consult a friend about a boyfriend even if she didn’t give a shit, she would do it. She was there and that was enough.
She would just do it and move on. She said words that sometimes I couldn’t hear but before I could ask she was already gone.

She was my sister. We got on, fought then quickly reconciled and because of this I knew that in the end we would always be okay. She told me about her day. We would support each other. We never said it to each other but knew it anyway- we loved each other. “Remember that time you hit that boy?” I asked. “Yeah. Good times. Remember that time when we were little and you cut my hair,” she said. We did this a lot reminisced and laughed about it.  “Remember that you let me.” That was it just us remembering.
She laughed and strolled off. Mumbling a word I couldn’t hear.

She was my daughter. She was happy and grateful. She wanted to make a difference and live. She wanted to be her. She wasn’t confident, but she knew who she was and what she wanted to be. We would talk about what we would do together, just making plans.
She would grin and wander off. I hate how she would mumble but now I regret not hearing those words.

She was my daughter too. We know we loved on another but it didn’t hurt to say it. “I love you,” she would say. “I love you too baby”, she would always be my baby.
She kissed me on the cheek and pranced off and said the word

Goodbye

Love, Sex and Other Human Necessities

A question that has been irritating me for a while is:

Why do humans crave love?

Or just crave other humans, in general.

Essentially, the ideal mindset for a person has been clear for centuries, millenniums even. This is to find a mate, our basic primal instincts dictate this. Through the years this mindset has changed, however not by much. Marriage was incorporated into our lives as a norm. Now the only difference is that education is included in our ideal little lives. Given, this may vary for some people but this is generally the most popular.

So why do we crave lovers, why do we crave love? It may be simple biology, pheromones but I’m no biologist. Actually, I’ve not even had a sexual attraction to someone so why is marriage still in my plan. Even asexual people want companionship. So there is more than this primal instinct.

My theory is this, not ground breaking in the least but what I think. From a young age we have had love literally crammed down our throats. Little girls with their easily influenced minds watched disney movies which told us that a girl can not be happy until she has a man. Her life is not complete until she has found love, anything less is not real happiness. This carried through their teens until they fianlly reached adulthood. This same lesson was still imprinted into these women’s minds. They attend family reunions and gathering with their friends and are asked if they are seeing anyone and if not then why?.

This can apply to men too, many of the guys that I know are told by their parents to have fun and do whatever until one day, they are thirty and their parents boabard them with questions which follow the general census. They ask why they have not found a nice woman. 

Women create their ideal love story, the ideal man with the ideal story which men can never really achieve. Many men don’t even try with this. Women don’t get treated like princesses like movies have promised them. However they still crave to be loved, by anyone. We crave love because it’s not acceptable to be alone.

So is it simply social convention for someone to be in a loving committed marriage.

Honest answer: I don’t know.
I say I don’t want to marry, simply because I’m lazy. I feel like anything more than friendship with anyone is just too much effort and the idea of this commitment scares me. I can’t imagining just giving (or sharing, depends on your perspective) half my life someone.
I don’t even like the idea of loving someone to an extent in which I need them, everyone wants to be loved but not everyone wants to love.
Despite all this I still read shoujo mangas and romance novels, for a reason that I don’t know.

Shadow

I wasn’t a happy child
This didn’t particularly bother me
Never did it make me go wild
Instead I felt somehow free
In all my never ending loneliness

My parents did no wrong in my upbringing
I was just weird
An anomaly or something
Other kids thought of me to be feared
So I never made a single friend

Not until I was nine
I noticed that she followed me for a while
I quickly claimed her as mine
My only friend who was always within a mile
We immediately took a liking to each other

My parents never took a liking like I did
But I think I loved her
She was a weird kid
Like me, we fit together
She was stranger and darker but that didn’t matter, not to me

I really needed her at night
When my parents used to fight
And tell me everything was gonna be alright
So I prayed she would be there with all my might
But she never did appear

For years we grew up by each other’s side
Her company was all I needed
Until she died
Or maybe she was alive
But she would never leave without saying goodbye

I miss her
I’ve made countless more friends
And a string of lovers
But no one meant anything compared to her
I miss my loneliness

Sometimes when I’m walking to work
Through the empty streets
Sometimes busy
I never notice anymore
But sometimes I swear from the corner of my eye that I see her

Lurking behind me that that shadowy figure
That I miss, I still miss her