Friendship

I know, I know, I'm at the beginning of a 31-day self-love challenge, but there's nothing wrong with adding other posts, right??

Friendships take two people. They need care and attention and sometimes they need fixing. Sometimes your best friend in the whole world can hurt you, sometimes you can upset them, and you have to work at it. You have to say 'I'm sorry.' You have to remind each other that you're human and you make mistakes. You have to accept you won't always see eye to eye, and that sometimes one of you will do things that the other doesn't agree with. Sometimes you'll see them making horrible mistakes and you have every right to tell them, but as a friend you also have to stand by and let them; and try not to roll your eyes as they come back crying to you about it. 


Friendship isn't about telling your friend who to be, or how to feel about people. It's about maybe hating their other friends or boyfriends/girlfriends but accepting that it's their choice. It's about compromise, and supporting each other through good and bad times. It's maybe saying 'you're being a bit of a hoe,and I wish you'd respect yourself more, but I love you anyway.' Or perhaps 'I can't agree with you taking him back, but if it's what you want then I hope I'm wrong, and I'm here if I'm not.'


Friendship is having someone to share with, and making memories. It's about accepting your friend's crazy outbursts, giving them space where needed, and always being on their team. Sometimes it's even calling first, even if it wasn't your fault. It's being a shoulder to cry on, a cheerleader, and a defender where necessary. It's not always easy, but nothing worth having ever is.

GET RID OF A LIMITING BELIEF THAT YOU HAVE ABOUT YOURSELF OR YOUR ABILITIES

‘I can’t do it.’

My mother will tell you, if asked, that I probably say this phrase multiple times a day. She will also likely tell you that ‘there’s no such thing as can’t.’

She’s probably right; (don’t tell her that, on pain of death) I probably can do it. It’s just that I’ve got this terrible habit known as self-doubt. I am constantly putting blockades in my own way, constantly over-thinking and over-complicating simple scenarios. My problem is I’m so afraid of failing, so afraid I can’t do it, that I simply don’t try.

My whole life has been negative ‘but what if’s’ and a multitude of half-concocted plans that I’ve abandoned because I’m too afraid. It may appear as laziness, but the moment I’ve done the hard work, the moment the plan is feasible; I panic. I live in a world inside my mind where theoretically I could accomplish anything, and I’m happy there, but in the real world I’m accomplishing nothing. I’m failing at life, based purely on the notion that I’m afraid to fail.

Is it anxiety? Perhaps. I’m more inclined to say it’s a control issue. The entire time ideas are solely contained inside my head I have complete control; the moment I release them into the world there are so many variables, much of which are out of my control. I must rely in some part on somebody else to buy, to produce, or to teach the idea. I need to have some form of acceptance or grading, some way of knowing whether the venture was successful, and that sort of pressure is immense. That feeling of helplessness, vulnerability, weakness as you relinquish control or ask for help. That drive to be the best you can be, and knowing, due to how self-critical you are, it will never be good enough.

This is true even of my writing. I struggle to (I’ll admit, originally, I wrote ‘cannot’ here but stopped myself- see, progress) write plans, I dread returning to a piece of work because the chapters I did previously will suddenly have gaping holes or mistakes and I’ll spend hours fixing them instead of focusing on moving the story forwards. I believe a writer will never truly be satisfied with their penmanship. Emotions can always be expressed better, a scene described in more elaborate detail, character profiles can always be built up stronger; or sometimes we feel we gave too much away and wish we’d held back.

Acknowledging my tendency to quit before I have the opportunity to fail, combined with my instant leap to ‘this is so rubbish, isn’t it’ before I’ve even allowed for compliments, is the first step to vanquishing this habit.

From today, I’m going to try saying:

‘I might not be able to do this, but maybe I’ll surprise myself.’

And I’m not going to allow myself to talk me out of completing this 31-day challenge. Maybe nobody will read it, maybe it will be rubbish, but maybe it will inspire even just one person to practice self-love. 

31 Day Self-Love Challenge

A friend sent me a 31-day self-love challenge and I thought it would be an excellent idea to share it with other people, in the hopes of inspiring them to find ways to look after their own minds and bodies, and remember that it's not selfish to love yourself; it's necessary!

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST STRUGGLE WITH LOVING YOURSELF?

I think when you’re surrounded by things telling you to: eat right, workout daily, to get the best possible career to have so much money, but also to socialise and go out drinking, to not obsess over food intake and ‘try this 241 pizza deal’ but also look like the sort of person who’s never so much as looked at carbs, wear the right clothes to be on trend but also that suit your body type; incidentally the two things never seem to match, to wear make-up but also look natural and not like you’re ‘trying too hard,’ to sleep 8 hours a night but also work 9 hours a day and go to the gym and make time for friends and spend time with family, and keeping up to date with  television shows and films and books and social media, you get exhausted. It’s impossible to be or do all these things at once. You go from an advert about cake, to an advert about weight watchers. Everything contradicts itself, everything in our lives is screaming about how inadequate we are, how unworthy and ugly we are. How disgusting we are compared to these photoshopped, airbrushed models with all sorts of plastic surgery that are forcing us to desire a completely unobtainable body shape. 

It starts as children with perfect Barbie and her completely unobtainable figure. Disney princesses with absolutely no waists. Make-up sets for dolls and for little girls to practice looking ‘picture perfect.’ Teen magazines having you rate yourself and belittling your already shrinking self-confidence when once again, you don’t ‘fit in.’ But where is, ‘in?’ So far I’ve not come across one single person in real life who can do it all. Something has to give; be it confidence, self-worth, or worst of all, our psyche.

I used to be slim, toned, reasonably attractive. Was I happy? I appeared to be; I had the car, the job, the boyfriend, the friends, the social life. But one day everything fell apart because although I had all these things society tells you that you need to be complete; it was an empty illusion. I had a yet-undiagnosed mental health disorder, and I was forcing myself to ‘fit in.’ I struggled so hard to understand what was wrong with me, why should I be depressed? What was I missing? The more I searched, the more I lost, the more I realised that none of that was the issue; it was deeper than that. I felt just as lost and lonely with nothing than I did with everything.

Now, years later I am clinically obese. I’m living at home with my parents nearing closer and closer to 30 and nothing of note to claim to my name. I don’t have a car, I don’t have a boyfriend, I have far less friends. But I’m starting to understand that happiness doesn’t come from your occupation, or material things. I am looking to publish my first ever poetry book, I’m working on a novel, I’m a mental health campaigner. I’m the exact same girl I was ten years ago, but I’ve learned so much about her in the last couple of years. I’ve learned why I feel so lost, so out of control. I’ve learned why I don’t quite ‘tick’ the way others do, or why I find certain things hard to understand or let go of; not only do I have an illness, I’ve experienced things nobody should have to. I’m coming to terms with my past, and the role it has in my present. I’m starting to recognise the girl I see in the mirror.

Society still goes out of it’s way to shame me for my weight, for my unemployment, for living with my parents, for having an invisible illness, and being a ‘bus w*nker;’ and unfortunately there are days where I believe and buy into the lies they sell about how I’m worthless and unworthy of respect and care. These are the days I forget to love myself. I forget to look at my scars not as imperfections but as reminders of the battles I thought I couldn’t win but did. I forget to remind myself that every day I’m alive is a medal-winning victory. I forget to say ‘okay, so you’re a fatty. Scales don’t lie. But you’ve also got a beautiful soul and so much to offer the world.’ I forget to tell myself that I’m proud for never giving in, for still having kindness to offer a world that hasn’t always been kind to me. For trusting deeply despite my trust being damaged beyond words so many times before. For loving with every inch of my heart even those who may not always deserve it.

Maybe I don’t always treat myself with the same level of love I give so freely to others, but it’s something I’m working on. It’s something I’m determined to work on every single day of my life, because, and say it with me now;

‘EVERY SINGLE PERSON DESERVES TO BE LOVED.’

And where better to start than with yourself?

😊