thoughts, blogging

How much do you love yourself?

IMG_8270 (1)

How much do you love yourself?
If you really think about it, how kind are you to you?

When we think about ourselves the first things we point out are our flaws, it’s become natural to do so, we all do it.
But sometimes we can go too far with the negative self-talk and before we know it…we’re caught up in something more harmful.
As women we all feel pressure to look a certain way but remain modest about ourselves because we don’t want to be seen as a ‘bitch’ or ‘up ourselves’.
I want to share my personal story of body image in hope that it might just make someone in a similar situation think twice.

I suppose I am tall, I stand at 172cm and I weigh what’s deemed a healthy BMI.
I have always eaten super healthy and taken care of my body. As kids my parents didn’t shower us with sugary foods or take- away very often. I have fond memories of my mum picking me and my siblings up from school, we would come home to a platter of broccoli and carrot with hummus. As a treat on a rainy day it was 2-minute noodles and a warm Milo (which I still crave now whenever it rains).
But as I got older, (for me this happened post High School which I am told is rarer) I developed an eating disorder, Anorexia.
You see, I left school and I realised the world of being a young female was pretty damn scary in a way. To be thin was and still is deemed desirable and when I was in school social media wasn’t as huge as it is now, the Kardashians weren’t a thing. Big booties and lip fillers weren’t the latest craze.

Initially, my reasons were to be as healthy as I possibly could be and let me tell you that slope gets really slippery really quick.

I was in my first year of University, I was studying a Bachelor of Science majoring in Nutritional Medicine. I had this idea in my head of how a Nutritionist was meant to look
and boy did I cling to that image like my nephew grabbing my hair, tight really tight.
I want to say I was 23 but my short-term memory is poor now. I was living out of home, I had a very sick brother and I was stressed – I was beyond stressed. And the way I deal with stress is gym (normally that’s fine) but the amount of time I was spending at the gym became scary. I wasn’t eating anything to fuel my body and for a while you think you can handle it all, that you’ve got it under control….. well little secret, it’s a fucking bitch of a disease. It grips you so tight that you aren’t you anymore, you become this version of you who is angry and scared and lashes out at the people you love.

I spent a lot of time in and out of doctors rooms, attached to various monitors that checked for everything, all in the hope that I could be freed from this horrible grip it had me under. But its grip is so strong, it’s terrifying. Over the next 18 months it had me prisoner, I couldn’t go to see friends, Uni became awfully hard, to even think just hurt my brain and I couldn’t walk very far away from my mum because I was afraid I’d faint.
My poor family had to watch me go through this, all the while my brother was so ill he was in hospital for months.

Anorexia isolates you.
In the beginning it seems like your friend, ‘you can do another 30 minutes of exercise easy!’ or ‘don’t eat that, girl think of how much time it takes to work off’.
It takes over your body and uses you as a vessel and in order for it to get stronger it sucks its energy from you.
It took two years from my life and left me with health issues as a souvenir.
I didn’t have a life for that entire time, people looked at me with pity and judgement in their eyes. I barely slept and if I did sleep, it was only a few hours here and there and I needed my mum next to me. I was lucky that she was there to hold my hand through the entire thing and to this day when I bring up that period in time I can see the sad look on her face and it kills me inside.

I have recovered now, I wouldn’t say 100% more like 90%. I still have thoughts that I have to deal with every day. I still see a psychologist to help me even years later to rid my mental health of that obnoxious weed.
But I can say with 100% certainty I love who I am, I love my body that kept me alive for those two years when I treated it so horribly.
I love me and I am more than just a size on a tag or a pimple that pops up at the most annoying of times. I treat my body like the temple it is, I feed myself food that will nourish me and I practice mindfulness….
Why? because I am human and while I am in this suit for hire I am going to treat myself with the upmost love and respect I deserve.
So why not start loving yourself a little more.
There is never a thing as too much love. I wish that self love was the norm.
Start simple, when you wake up each day and look in the mirror, tell yourself you are a boss bitch and you’ve got this!
IMG_8280

G.S xx

 

thoughts, blogging

Its about connection

IMG_8113

I’ve embarked on a new journey type thing this year.
I was feeling a certain way when conversations were constantly revolving around engagements, financial planning, house renovations, pregnancies, adopting children, fostering puppies…
My BFF almost never replied to my texts anymore and she was always buying a new dress, for some wedding, for some annoying person we went to high school with and posting it on SM and urghh – massive eye roll.

I’m like literally on tinder giving it up to guys who ask me ‘do you like your pussy being licked’ after we plan our first meet up…for coffee.
And I’m lighting up whenever I’m a little stressed over my after-pay account, let alone buying a new dress for a wedding I never get invited to.
I’m living at home with my parents because my Dad is a damn good cook, and I’m still in debt by $5000 to some lame electricity company because my old house mates never kept up their end of the bargain. So I mean, that’s where I’m at.

And to be honest with you I’m just in a romantic rut, where the guys who I’m attracted to are texting me and I still don’t give a shit.

You see, when I hear that a friend is getting married I’m SO HAPPY FOR THEM…I really am. I’m filled with this overwhelming feeling of joy and excitement and faith in love and LOVE IS REAL, ‘Hallelujah! you’re getting married?? CONGRATULATIONS!!’.
But then it hits me……sweet Jesus, I am going to die alone.

‘It’s not about sex, it’s about connection’– my BFF has told me this SO MANY TIMES over the last 12 years of our friendship. It doesn’t surprise me that she is the one in a long term committed relationship and not self-advertising on a geo matching sex app.

When I think about what I desire, what I truly want for my future….it’s a little farm with a veggie patch, a bee hive and goats, children and a long haired hippy babe who serenades to me all day long. The type of person who will be at every one of their sons soccer games and never miss a piano recital. The type that reads a bed time story to the children every night, without fail.
Deep down I feel that’s what I deserve. A drama free, cruelty free, environmentally friendly, fuckinggg sexy life!
But I also feel it’s completely unobtainable in the hook up culture we live in today (the one I totally participate in, on a regular basis btw).

Someday I want to be so madly in love and attracted to my person and I don’t ever want that to fade. I don’t want to look at my partner in 30 years and not feel the same way I did at our engagement. That shit scares me to my core!
I don’t want to have 3 months here and 6 months there of dry patches in our marriage.
What is that? we didn’t have enough ‘sexual desire’ for each other in a whole 3 months. What they doing then? Wanking off in the green house?….

People talk about making love and I’m pretty sure I’ve made love once…maybe NEVER in my entire life.
I don’t even think I know what making love means but I know it’s not bad sex.
LOL, You know the type of sex where they roll over once they’re done and you’re having to finish yourself off? FUCK OFF that makes me so mad.
I just gave you the performance of my life, I was the fucking head angel, the blow job fairy. I let you fuck me reverse cowgirl and I’m sorry dude, I know I like to think I have thighs of steel, but I DON’T.
And sure- you’re getting a marvellous sight back there but I’m about to fake being really bad at this, so you end up bending me over and doing all the work.
THAT IS SHIT SEX!!

I’m 27, please treat me like I just spent $17 on an uber to get here and shaved from my eyebrows down, it’s called respect.

Then of course there’s the good sex, it makes us crazy.
Crazy fucking obsessed, the type that leaves us thinking we’re in love.
Cant stop talking about them, cant stop thinking about them, cant stop stalking their IG account, cant stop texting them.
Then they ruin like a month of our lives by not being the person we built them up to be. Good sex = Don’t be fooled.

But what even is making love?
I assume it’s what my BFF was talking about for all these years, connection.
Where your hearts become as one and you can feel each other and know each other’s thoughts like some sort of Magic, it’s spiritual and soulful.

Ok, so that’s a bit full on.

But it brings me back to my initial point of embarking on some journey – call it a revelation, an epiphany.
When I look back it makes me sad all the fucks I gave, all the giving it up for these jerkoffs and losers who had the best fucking nights sleep of their lives because of me and I had to find my own way home.

What a waste of time, what a waste of money and what a waste of MAKEUP.

I know that I’m in no state to find my true love. My long haired hippy, my goat lover, my muso, my ‘we’re doing it for the kids’ type person … but I think the wait might be worth it.

So to a journey of taking control of my life. Here’s to me, my vagina and my future
– God help us.

IMG_8114.GIF

 

 

Ef. xx