Disclaimer/Content Note: I talk a lot about obsessive exercise and calories in this post. I’m not diagnosing myself with anything, nor am I prescribing a perspective or attitude to have, nor am I a qualified authority on anything to do with health at all, as you’ll see below. This is just my experience, one that I think a lot of women silently struggle with. I don’t want to be silent.
Feet pounding on the soft, shadowed mud of my local woods, a song called ‘Can’t Get Enough of Myself’ by Santigold starts playing through my headphones, and I smile. I’ve always cracked a smile when this song comes on, amused by the lyrics but simultaneously motivated by them. I used to think they were funny because they were so audaciously confident, and singing along was an act so far from the truth of how I felt. Singing along was an act of manifestation, of trying to speak into existence. Now, I smile because the words fit.
I vaguely remember, when I was younger, being told by someone – a friend, or a TV show, or a YouTuber – that we should be comfortable with our quirks, because they’re the parts of us that the person we are romantically ‘meant to be with’ will love the most. The mole on your stomach, the birthmark on your hip, the stretch marks on your leg: these things are waiting to be loved by someone.
Content Note: This article contains discussion of mental health.
It’s that horrible time of the year where we wake up as we go to sleep: in the dark. It’s a time consumed by demotivation and exhaustion, by the bitter cold and the dreary skies. Sometimes, I find it difficult to get out of bed in the winter, overwhelmed by an urge to stay curled up in the warm sheets. What’s the point of facing a day full of darkness?
I started the 2010s as a 9-year-old, and finished them at 19. There’s a lot of books that filled the gap between those ages – a countless amount, actually. When I got my annual notification from Goodreads asking me to start my next reading challenge, I got to thinking not just about what had come the year before, but what I’d just spent a decade reading.
Why I’m refusing to let my 2020 get bogged down with resolutions
It’s that time of the year again! Misty mornings, lazy days, that beautiful waiting game between Christmas and New Year where all we eat is leftovers and junk food. But it’s OK: we’re not bound by our resolutions, yet.