I’ve started this blog with the intention of having a space to talk to myself. My mind is always going a mile a minute — about the past, about the future — and very rarely the present (one of the things on my long list of… things to work on; ways to better myself). As being less critical of myself is also on that list, I will use this opportunity to note that I think a brain like mine is a powerful thing, albeit it drives me a little nuts. Hopefully, having somewhere to dump the ridiculous amount of stuff I want to say/things I’d like to fix/moments in time I’m stuck in/problems I’m trying to work through/self-care items on my agenda/painful things I’m feeling/hyperfocused on/overthinking/making worse… will help calm my mind, and bring me a little bit more peace day to day, and in my sleep.
It might come out in the form of a rant, a seemingly useless re-telling of a story, a poem, something that resembles me talking to myself, a lecture for whoever’s reading, an inspirational moment of clarity, the digesting of a podcast/book/quote I heard, whatever.
As long as it helps, I’m okay with it. Because bottling up every feeling or thought like it’s gonna stab whoever’s nearby if it escapes isn’t helpful.
Anyway. I’ve noticed a lot about myself recently that…
Helps me to see how I’ve changed. Old thinking patterns or beliefs I’ve outgrown or purposely rid myself of. It may not sound significant to anyone other than me, but I grew my goddamn bangs out. I GREW MY BANGS OUT, THEY’RE GONE. Previously? I would have literally cried at the thought of life without them. Straight across, heavy, thick, not a hair out of place BANGS. Until I was oh, you know, 19. Then it was… slightly angled bangs, but still bangs. By 25 I’d officially achieved side bang status.
Around 26/27 years old, I realized I was clinging to the security of having any amount of hair in front of my face because I believed my face was inherently ugly and therefore dialed down by having a bit of a distraction to it.
This is in part because my mom liked bangs and I grew up in the 90’s, in part that lots of people told me I looked “better” with bangs, and in part because of my own insecurities about other aspects of my face… all rolled up by yours truly into a clusterfuck of dysfunctional.
Now, my forehead is front and center. It only took 28 years, but it’s far better than the alternative (clearly, being, lifelong self-hatred…kidding). I feel the breeze on my face, I can run or walk or let the wind blow without ‘fixing’ my hair, and better yet; I am forced to be unapologetic about the way I look. This is my face. Take it or leave it. I’ve decided to own it. What else is there to do?
Anyway… enough on bangs. I’ve also learned to stop posing everything I say or tell someone as a question to “lighten” the directness of the message. I know that if I gained 2 pounds this week, I’ll lose 2 pounds next week, because that’s what happens with women’s bodies. I’ve stopped weighing myself, because if I eat things that are good for me and feel good, my actual weight is irrelevant. I don’t need to ask for everyone’s opinion on something before I make a decision, because my opinion is enough. My success is the direct result of my hard work, and not a coincidence I need to fluff up as “dumb luck” to appear non-threatening or lacking in confidence. My tendency to talk shit about people is a crutch I use when I’m feeling insecure, and makes me look bad. And I should stop.
This may seem like a rant, but I assure you, it’s sensical as shit.