It would appear that as the sun has finally reached the UK, I have scuttled in doors and shut myself away from everyone and everything. A bit like woodlice or, as I used to call them when I was younger, cheesey-bugs.
I just don’t know what to wear. Simple as that really. Summer seems to signal to the rest of the world that you can suddenly re-emerge from your winter woolies into your tight tops and vibrant colours. At the moment I am very much in denial as to the seasonal changes. I am proud though, I have managed to move from wearing mostly black and bleak clothes to mixing it up with lighter greys. I know, impressive!
It is something that I have always had a problem with. Before the scars and the acne. It comes from a fundamental discomfort in my own skin. I hate the fact that I can’t be comfortable as I am. I know that it is not an issue with my appearance, it is an issue with self-acceptance. I now look back at pictures of my younger self where I truly thought I was ugly and obviously larger than my friends and wonder why?. What a waste.
In therapy on Monday, I was asked what I wanted to get out of the sessions. I said ” I want to be able to get through Medical School”.
Yeah, a tall order. She commented on my high expectations and told me to think about it. I now know what I want to sort. Actually need to sort. I need to start to respect my body and stop abusing it. I want to wear skirts and dresses and stop being afraid of looking ‘like a girl’. I should embrace my youth and imperfections and dance into the sun. Happy dancing guys!