Do you ever wake up in the morning and feel like the sun shines out your own ass? Those days when you are unshakable in your confidence and unwavering in selflove? Those days where a smile is the easiest thing to wear. I live for the days where bad bitch energy pumps through my veins. But my bad bitch energy is new, she is fresh out the womb. And new confidence is fragile. It balances on the edge of a blade, so even the ways in which I am most sure of myself can be shook with a small wind in the wrong direction.
If I have a moment where my jeans are too tight, bad bitch energy dissipates. If I get ghosted, she runs off into the night. And god forbid I open up the selfie camera on my phone when I am unprepared. I look like a raw potato, all pale and nasty. And I want to love myself so badly because true, unapologetic confidence fills you up in a way that is pure and kind. I’m not talking about narcissism, which can be draining, but confidence. Just the ability to recognise flaws and faults and be okay despite them. That feeling makes me happy. Love for myself makes me appreciate everything around me so much more, I can get out of my own way and just enjoy life.
But as I said, I have a fragile ego. It bruises easily and it’s covered in bumps from all the years I allowed myself to hold a negative inner monologue. I want it to be shiny and new, but it never will be. I want it to be strong and resilient. I want quick fixes to my self-doubt, so I seek out others who will call me pretty or tell me I’m funny and act as though that’s enough. It’s not enough.
I said once, “I am a damn treat because I made myself that way”, and I stand by that statement. I am a damn treat. I know that, in my bones I know that. I know I can write music that makes people laugh and cry. I have put myself back together more times than people should have to, and I did that (with the help of others). I am strong, now not only mentally but physically, because I’m STILL WORKING OUT AND IT’S BEEN 7 MONTHS AND I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M STILL DOING IT. And my dad says I’m a good driver, so all in all, I’m a fucking catch.
But even the term “catch” gets under my skin because it refers to me as a benefit to someone else. However, I’m not for someone else, I’m for me. I can’t love me because other people love me, I can’t see their affection as personal validation. Because people can leave, but I can’t. I’m stuck in this life regardless of what I want, so I better find a way to enjoy it.
I think sometimes I forget that the best things in life take so much work, and not even, they take maintenance. Day in and day out, you have push yourself. It’s like working out, or eczema, or mental health. This shit isn’t a mountain top, where you reach the top and can just stand there. This is an escalator, if you stop moving you’re not just standing still, you’re going backwards.
So, I want to work hard at myself, I feel as though I am. I’m working out, I’m writing new music, I’m being honest with myself and others about what I want, I want to be a better person. This is just me admitting that I’m not there yet. I’m not yet at the top of the escalator, I’m simply making my way there. And it’s not that self-love will fix all my problems. I’m not narcissistic enough to think that the struggles in my life are caused purely by myself. Nor am I saying that self-love will make everyday fantastic. I don’t think people are meant to have only good days. We’re supposed to have bad days to appreciate the good days more. I just want to be more in control over myself. I don’t want it tethered to other people because self-love should only involve 1 person.
And possibly it’s this shit bag of a year that has me caught in this existential, quarter-life crisis. But that’s 2020 for you. And likely part of me should go easier on myself, let things slide because life is far from expected so I need to bend a bit to account for the world around us. I guess I just want to keep working, keep moving forward, because I’m over going backwards.
From me, with love, to you,