This was how it looked Saturday, almost 2 years to the day I broke my ankle. It’s still healing, currently itchy! But darn I’m planning my next! For those of you who hate tattoos I accept and appreciate that. For me, though, every tattoo is significant, meaning something or signifying an event I want to mark. As with anything, think before you judge and criticise. This planet is beautifully made. Variety is part of this beautiful creation! Xxx
Two years ago, on a drizzly Wednesday morning, I boarded a train. I had planned on making this a journey of self discovery. The events preceding this journey had been largely shaped out of my depressive illness, and I had done things and said things that I can now look back on and realise were, in a large part, due to my state of mind.
But I also discovered a lot of inner strength that I had not realised was in me before. Someone I’d considered a friend had said some really hurtful things that led me to evaluate that whole relationship, while other people had returned into my life that I’d previously parted with, through differing life experiences. I was very aware of several monumental changes happening at that time, and I hoped my trip would be a good time for me to reach a place of inner calm and acceptance.
What actually happened is I got very drunk, very stoned, and was back in my bed at home when I woke the next morning. The events of the day moved from clear to hazy to I simply cannot remember, and it was only the next morning when I got out of bed and collapsed we discovered I’d broken my ankle.
My weekend of discovery at Glastonbury didn’t happen, and I actually moved into a deeper state of depression at that time. I was unable to do simple tasks such as school runs and shop trips. I was pretty much sofa bound for several weeks. I discovered the people who thought enough of me to come round and spend time with me, and those that now I was out of action thought I was not really of benefit. I got bitter. I got angry. I was hurt. I felt like all the times I’d put myself out for others amounted to nothing as I spent hours and hours alone and lonely.
2 years have passed, and I can see that actually I was offered a far more meaningful experience and “journey” than a drunken weekend in a mud swamped field could ever have offered.
I lost several friends at that time, but regained a few, and those are golden. I may not always agree with them, I may get bloody frustrated at times, but my lonely time then and my movement in and out of depression helped me to see that we really are all going through our own issues, and no one else is really ever going to understand them. In my moments of clarity and when the depression is lifted, I can empathise and understand those cries for help from those around us. But when the depression is there and I’m seeing through a fog I won’t see the whole picture. But if I can remember this, when I am in those pits of depression, if I can cling on to the belief that people aren’t really all against me, then I won’t take those steps that alienate me and lose good friends. And good friends are the ones who treat you with respect and acceptance. The ones who do not judge you on what you wear or weigh, how you dress or talk. The ones who have faith in you that you would not betray them. I lost one friend, who accused and suspected me of sharing their secrets and our discussions with everyone in the city. The irony is, through what I have seen and heard, they accused the wrong person, but they also spoke about me and talked me down to a good number of people. So another lesson is to realise the hypocrites and avoid them!
In these last 2 years I have witnessed again and again how blessed I am to have my husband and kids in my life. Why would I need to go off and discover myself when the man of my dreams tolerates all my hocus pocus and hippy dippy antics? When my mood drops and I can’t see the sunshine, they’re there to support and bring normality in to my life.
To mark this two year journey, and two put a bit of humour and irony into what was a horrid break and a nice metal plate in my ankle, I had an anchor tattooed onto my scar. The anchor is a symbol of stability. Am I stable? Well, maybe a little bit more than I was! Ask me again in two years.
Feeling good today. Amazing what magic the sun can do! Got a maxi dress, covering a multitude of bumps! It is not, however, covering a multitude of sins. My lumps and bumps do not determine me to be a bad person. The naughty things I think and do will determine that ;-).
When you surround yourself with positive people and language, it has a positive effect on your life. If you surround yourself with people obsessed with the superficial, with those who believe your worth is based in how you look, what you wear, how you exercise and how you eat, you will be knocked down, and have your self worth depleted all those times you don’t fit into their ideals.
But since February things have been very up and down. I was training for the Moonwalk (completed it, and have signed up to attempt to run a half marathon!), I was believing I should concentrate on my food a bit, and got sucked in to the belief that Weight Watchers would work this time! Damn it I would make it work!
A few monetary pounds shorter, but no pounds lighter, I realised that yet again I’d been sucked in to the delusion that life would be so much better if only I were thinner!
Truth is, life is pretty darn good. I have a beautiful family. I now surround myself with people that support each other and love each other, and trust each other. I am taking the plunge and going for a college course. I am coming out of another well of depression, and I am learning to run on my terms, without some fit bod breathing down my neck. Food and drink aren’t the big issue they become when I follow those diet plans. And I’m not measuring my self worth by the reaction of someone next to a set of scales. We choose what we focus on in life. When we succumb to the media portrayal of the “ideal”, we can start to attempt changing ourselves. The magazines that tell you how “Michelle lost 2 stone and now has the ideal bikini body” aren’t showing you the real life activity of those people. You’re not seeing the highs and lows of their day to day life. My favourite quote at this moment is;
“The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel.” —Steve Furtick
Those magazines aren’t celebrating the very human differences that our bodies have. An hourglass woman is never going to lose her bum and bust. She is beautiful in her shape and should embrace it! The woman fretting she has no bum and little bust has assets all of her own, she can achieve looks and activities that the other lady can’t. Neither is the superior shape. Neither is more desirable to humanity. Why are we looking to what the media says is the right way to look? Why are we giving our power away to a mostly male profession of fashion “leaders and creators”?
Step away from the negative voices. The ones telling you what to eat, how to exercise, who to follow. Take time to ask yourself what you want in life. If you can, avoid the celebrity gossip that is making you question yourself. Look for literature and groups that support women in all their forms. Not because you’re “giving up” but because you’re not putting up with the lies anymore. You are wonderful.
A great blog post from an inspiring woman
I am going to be publishing a series of posts written by people I have met who have a variety of experiences with their weight and weight loss. If you listen to the narrative of the diet industry, weight loss stories are simple: lose weight, live happily ever after. the end. However, this is rarely the case. I have several people lined up to write about their experiences with their weight from some viewpoints we don’t usually hear about. My purpose in doing this is to give more people a platform to share their stories and to help others see that it’s normal to have experiences that are more complicated than what we would be lead to believe.
My first guest post is by someone I have been friends with online for several years now. I first met Leah on Fatsecret.com when we were both using the site to count…
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