Remember my rash late November I assumed to be a stress induced hive breakout brought on by my (self-diagnosed) post traumatic stress disorder-like behaviour after fleeing that volcano on Bali?
‘Course you don’t. But I do. Turns out this may have something to do with it.
Look at it.
So tall. Esthetically pleasing on the eye.. So subtle. A sniper from the side.
Cleansing shower milk. Cleansing. Milk. Shower..
I’d been piling that shit on as body lotion for weeks after fishing it out of one of those tax-free two for one baskets at the airport after my long and traumatizing journey back to Norway. I’m stunned. It looks exactly the same as the fucking lotion.
Anyways. That was a waste of antihistamines and unnecessary alienation from my cheap (in every sense) Christmas sweater I was led to believe contributed to my hive breakout.
Probably could’ve worn it every day..
Ok. Over to something less heartbreaking. Had a business meeting yesterday. Business meeting on my terms (since it’s my future business we’re talking about and I’ll run things like I want to run things and only hire and work with people I’m super into as humans beings). So obviously a bit hungover and having one of these mornings. (Note that I am not vegan nor allergic to anything but I do have a sensitive stomach and simply prefer a lot of vegan options. Plus I hate milk, always have. In case you were wondering why I was drinking chocolate oat milk and not normal chocolate milk like the normal meat-eating person that I am would. It’s delicious and you should stop stealing babymilk to little cows and try it. (Not a passion of mine either actually. I’ll just take whatever convenient moral highway that effortlessly come my way to appear more engaged than I actually am. I have no leftover energy for cows, sorry)
You guys I’m so excited about the project I’m working on. It’s big. Huge. And I can’t wait to show you.
Yes, you.
I go work now, this is costing me money I don’t have. I go work: pantless and guilt-free with my trash-tv running in the background. I kind of love life.
Wow, it’s been long. Not really sure what I’ve been up to. I’ve been working quite a lot. Socializing much more than usual. I’ve had two weddings, trip to Oslo with my mum, spent a lot of time with the first and the little one, too little time with the other one (which he says is a good thing; missing each other is good), and then relaxing for the rest of the time. Which we all know I need a lot of.
I think some of the reasons I haven’t been checking in on myself’s got to do with the fact that I’m not running. Haven’t been able to since the marathon. And it makes it a little bit harder to sit down alone and think about how I’m feeling. Which is ok,I guess. People don’t usually sit down with themselves all that often. I’ve just gotten so used to it I’ve started to depend on it to maintain some sort of tolerable level of sanity and happiness. Which may be just an illusion. Come to think of it.
Went for a run last Friday and felt the happiest that I’ve felt in a long time. Of course I woke up the following day with a slight limp and a slow moving inner thigh. So that was a little bit devastating. But I kind of feel it was worth it. Tears of joy are something I’ve been craving for a long time. I’m convinced it’s what reminds me when I’m feeling really low, that I can also reach that same intensity of happiness. That level of tear in and weight on your chest that leads to having to open up your entire system by tilting your head back to even be able to get enough air into your lungs. The opposite physical reaction to what makes you kind of shake when you’re sobbing and makes your system collapse and go inwards. Yes, this is the physical reaction that makes you laugh because it needs so much oxygen to feed this chest-expanding feeling when you’re crying of joy. Have I gotten addicted to extreme emotions? Have I felt such highs and such lows that I feel depressed by the lack of it..? For the same reason a person do extreme sports, is it possible to become addicted to extreme emotions?
I think I am. An extreme-emotion-related adrenaline junkie.
Anyways. Maybe it’s ok that I’m feeling a little bit distanced and not in touch with everything that goes on in my mind. But I can’t shake the fear that it might explode some day. I’m over-thinking this.
Like I do all things in life.
Anyways. I least I got a new dress because the sun was out and the other one spent a ton of money on free diving equipment, and balance is everything.
A dress I’m clearly very happy about -it was very expensive.
A dress I used for these guys’ wedding.
Notice the overheated broad-legged mess to the right wanting to jump ship.
Obviously not a photo taken by me. I would never pose like that knowingly.
It was so hot that weekend I could go swimming every morning. This made me very happy.
Ok I’m off now. Off to a day of steaming and sewing (actually working on something super exciting) and not having to face a single soul all day <3
Which my husband actually warned me about since they’re changing something to do with the power thingy.. Oh I get it, the power’s gone now. Well I can live with that. I’ll just write this then post when he’s done. Jokes on him and I didn’t need to ruin my morning by opening the door. I assume it’s a man since that’s what all my previous encounters with electricians has taught me. This is not a statement I feel nor wish to be the standard.
On a totally different note. My neighbor is out on his terrace every day now since this crazy weather affected our beautiful northern hemisphere and caught us all by surprise.
I mean I get it. We’re all astounded and acting weird due to this but this is nuts. It’s not only looking really boring and like questionable behaviour to me, it’s preventing me of walking out on my own terrace looking like the grinch stealing presents retrieving my clothes I left like one hour ago for drying. I’m obviously taking this temperature opportunity to do all my laundry, which must also lead them to believe I’ve been hoarding dirty laundry all winter. I don’t appreciate a bystander as I’m performing this act. I don’t appreciate having to nod to someone this early in the morning. Especially from my own private property.
It’s probably highly inappropriate to sneak around taking (not to mention posting) pictures of unaware people on their own private property. But after going several rounds with myself I concluded that you can’t really see the guy and he could might as well just be in the background of a picture of a totally different object. I can’t imagine how many pictures featuring me in the background of a Chinese person posing in front of.. anything in Bergen. (Was that generalizing? You can’t write anything these days without being verbally slaughtered. But there really is a lot of Chinese tourists, there really is).
Plus the issue is far greater than the damage it would do me facing a possible arrest based on inappropriate photography.
Ah.. one of the many inconveniences of 30 degrees celsius. How can we not be prepared with emergency fans for this highly unlikely situation we’re now facing totally unarmed?
Rejoice! Power’s back and I can and now continue steaming my fabrics. After posting this. I have yet to be presented the possibility to retrieve my laundry, but that can wait. At some point I’ll have to get dressed since I’m meeting my family later, then I’ll show him how groomed I am whilst working from home. That’ll teach him..
Got into a conversation yesterday about making choices in life based on what you really want. What your heart really desires. Many of us don’t, and, in my opinion, there is no reason whatsoever why we shouldn’t. We’re all taught to selflessly do stuff to please others. To help others in order to make them feel good, not to hurt their feelings. Go to and do certain stuff because we feel obligated to do so. Personally I would never want anybody who doesn’t want to to come to my party.. I don’t see why anyone would want that.
Obviously your child needs to go that one kid without friends’ birthday party, that’s parenting and part of learning your child compassion and evolving their sense of empathy. I’m thinking more about the lack of education past childhood, the education of deciding for yourself and basing your life choices on how you feel. The knowledge that you can do so. Many people aren’t necessarily living their lives according to how they really wish to. Myself included. I remember a very specific moment at my psychologist nine years ago, her laying out a theory about why I was so angry and my social anxiety was worsening. A theory of my inner balance being off.
My weighing scale inside of me of what my desires were and what my actions actually were was tilted and it lead to emotions I couldn’t make sense of which left me frustrated and hurt without really knowing why. Obviously there was a lot of contributing factors that lead me to my then emotional and physical state, but I remember so clearly when she pointed this out and how much sense it made.
I wasn’t feeling valued by myself in my decisions because I was so used to not asking myself what I really wanted and needed. I went straight to what I believed others wanted me to do. What they needed from me. Worrying about what they’d think of me had I chosen otherwise. I wanted to, didn’t really think I had an option other than to please them. You think you’re angry at other people because you’re feeling that they’re overstepping your boundaries, when you’re really reacting to yourself ignoring your own boundaries. You’re actually ignoring your inner self screaming to get your attention and listen to what it has to say. (I say it here. My inner self is obviously a man, I don’t know about yours)
We can only be balanced and at peace when we make choices after consulting with ourselves. There will always be the part of “What’s the right thing to do, socially, ethically, old school, considering others?” , “What would I selfishly like to do (not considering ANYone)?” and “What does my past experiences and gut tell me to do?”
Making choices based on your results after asking yourself these questions will make your scale balanced again. Again, I can only speak for myself, but I swear, I had so much hatred towards everyone! Feeling alone in my thoughts. Misunderstood. Inferior. What I wanted, my opinions didn’t matter. Which is bullshit. You’re not alone! If you are -we ALL are. You’re not misunderstood -you just haven’t figured out what you need and communicated that well enough. You’re not inferior -we’re all worth exactly the same! Your needs are important. All of these feelings came from me not living from my own point of view. Not taking myself seriously. None of these feelings would’ve existed if it weren’t for the assumption of that “I should ….” in order to be accepted. Be that loved, liked, respected, approved, validated, not judged, or simply getting ahead in life.
Firstly, like Bambi on ice, I was unsteadily making choices with a bit too much of a “what would I selfishly like to do (not considering ANYone)?”. Not really considering myself and my health included. Only acting according to our greedy selfish selves we most likely end up hurting not only others but ourselves along the way. But it was important for me to realize!
Secondly, I relapsed a little. Feeling like my inner compass wasn’t really doing me any good in the long run and went back to feeling that I was more likely to be liked and respected if I just did what I thought I was supposed to do.
But then.., ’cause at this point I’d learned something -unlocked a door that could not be locked again, I’d learned that I don’t have to do anything if I don’t want to, a stage I think will last through the rest of my life, balance. I started investigating what was really going on when I made my choices. Not only “do I really want this?” but “why don’t I want this?”, “why do I feel like I should want this?” and finally “does me not wanting this weigh heavier than the damage it’ll do in not doing this?”
Because sometimes we make choices we don’t want to based on the assumption that we need to. And it’s not always the case. Sometimes it’s just taught, and wrongly so. Sometimes it’s just FAKE NEWS everyone!
…
For example; You have an event coming up. And I’m not talking about an intimate event of your best friend’s life’s work (you should attend to that you asshole), but like a big family gathering, big work party, voluntary work in your building -you get the point. You really don’t want to go, but it’s expected you do so. But your week at work was crazy, you got dumped, your anxiety’s through the roof, your dog died and no-one understands or sees your pain (even if they did, here is not the time nor place to grieve or fall asleep). You really don’t feel like going. You spend the week dreading it. But you go. You should go. And you hate your boss for making you do so. Or your family for forcing you to do this annual bullshit. And your neighbors. You’ll be damned if you ever meet them in the hallway after this and speak cheerfully about the weather. And you also, as a bonus, end up hating yourself a little bit for letting them make you feel this way.
It’s ridiculous. We do all this kind of bullshit, when the truth is: we don’t really have to a lot of the times. Your boss will get over you not attending the party. And if he fires you for not attending a Christmas party you must ask yourself if you really wanna work for this asshole anyway. Career isn’t everything you know and extreme wealth and world domination will most likely not go hand in hand with balance and inner peace. So there’s that..choice.
Your family really loves you – they’ll try to understand when you explain to them why you chose not to come. And if not.. so what? I mean, really? Do you have to best friends with auntie Bertha?
I can only speak for myself, but I am better after realizing this. I’m not only feeling better, but am a better woman for it. And a better friend. I love people more now that I know that no one controls me. Please recognize the respect someone has for you when they trust you enough to share their feelings in explaining you why they do what they do. I believe that you are smart enough to understand that me being, let’s say depressed, has nothing to do with you. And quite frankly, the fact that you’re pointing out that you’re hurt and disappointed I’m depressed and ‘chose’ not to come to your son’s baptism.. You’re acting like an ass and I feel sorry for him.
And 97/100 times people will (try to) understand. They’re allowed to feel disappointed, sad, let down, angry; that’s life. You can relate! You used to feel that way too about them, for not considering your feelings.
I don’t fear my own nor other people’s feelings. Feelings come and go, but you can’t go on for an entire lifetime not listening to yourself. People get over it, move on to find something else to be disappointed in. At the end of the day they (as we all do) care about our own feelings. No one will care for yours as respectfully and with more understanding as you yourself can. And maybe one day, when the sun’s just right and life’s beautiful and balanced.. considering auntie Bertha’s feelings will actually weigh heavier and make you happier than considering only your own. Because you allowed yourself the choice.
I’ve been finding myself in a rather peculiar state of mind lately.. Feeling thoughtful but without the ability to form any sort of definition around it, unable to create sentences to explain. And I really want to, you know I do. But in order to not get totally lost (like I more often than I’d like to admit do), I’ll wait. And show some pictures from our constitution day instead.
Which we’ve hosted for the last three years and finally decided to from now on make an official tradition of ours. I love hosting. An excuse to clean up the place up. Cooking. Baking. Buying the expensive tomatoes and juices and all the herbs I want without guilt.. That’s all me btw, the (come to think of it) general guilt of being alive -the other one’s happy indulging on a more regular basis. But for the guests of course: only the best. It’s when I truly shine. Being mrs boss lady arranging everything, vision coming to life, providing comfort and warmth for my guests.. I think that’s the only time I had my bridal glow to be honest. Pre-arrangements. I’m a good planner. Solid.
Ok, enough of that.
Over to something less awkward. Components, alterations and results! YES! Everybody loves a good pavlova and is an absolute must on the 17th. Søttende. Why, I don’t know since it origins as far from Norway as possible, but there it is.
Champagne equally important
popped by this guy
drunk by this guy
Everyone wearing this little pin for our great country.
As white as the white is the snow, the red given to the evening sun, the blue from the glaciers we know -Norway in red, white and blue! That’s from our song about the colors in our flag (yes, we have a song about it and yes, I took some liberties in translating it) and can bring tears to the most stoic of stoic Norwegians. I wore my Beckham suit which I let out just under two cm in the area that is my ass the previous day, which I did happily fyi, and obviously did not put a pin in it. Not even for the glaciers.
The day summed up in one faceless picture. Nationally suited up.
One last thing I’d like to share with you is that a flying thing, a bug with provocatively long skinny legs, flew into my apartment last night (because it’s summer in Norway and we’re not prepared therefore airing out our houses at all times) which resulted in me going to bed thirty minutes earlier than expected having to close my bedroom door which I usually leave open when home alone. The other one likes it closed, I don’t.
I couldn’t find it this morning. Still haven’t.
So there’s that. Dealing with that whilst sewing beautiful things to a beautiful little woman.
I’m hungover. Or, actually, not as much hungover as experiencing ‘dagen derpå’. ‘Dagen derpå’ is not as bad as having a physical hangover. Which may include symptoms like nausea, headache, shaking / trembling, second guessing who you are and the path you’re headed in life, trauma to the mind and a general sensation of fear and anxiety towards the world and everyone in it.. ‘Dagen derpå’ is more of a general term we vikings use for the day after drinking and doesn’t necessarily include running to the bathroom to throw up. We have another term for that. Fyllesyk. ‘Dagen derpå’ means more just, you know, worn out. Often just used as an excuse for looking like shit. Like how your dry and sore lips you’re now left with looks after last nights frantic, and unnecessarily frequent lipstick application.
I don’t know about you, but I always turn a little bit manic when I’m wearing lipstick. Matte in particular. Paranoid even. That’s a real sport and the women doing it daily should get more credit than they are. So many dangers to it..
Went for dinner to celebrate my sis-in-laws birthday with her and her man. Best thing in the world maybe, couples dates.
Anyways, here I sit, dagen derpå, eating oatmeal contemplating which work task in front of me acquire the least amount of energy and brain activity. Temporary conclusion being I can allow myself an episode or two of Paradise Hotel first. It’s still on in Norway, yes, and is possibly ranking highest as the trashiest of trashy in one of my favorite genres in the entertainment industry today: Reality <3
Poor judgement calls, lack of insight, backstabbing, selective amnesia and people trying to convince themselves they’re not going to have intercourse on national television and then having it. Fighting for not that much money and talking tactics that don’t really matter all that much because the people behind the show are genius and like to do whatever the fuck they want in the game. Feeling like kings and queens should the game allow things to go their way for a second, throwing tantrums when they don’t. It’s beautiful. And a study of human nature in its self.
I’m not getting into a lot of details about the race, but a quick summary (..) is on order.
I did manage to start slowly and really hold back the first lap (the course was the same loop twice with the start- and finish line right in the heart of Bergen city). Holding back in the beginning is crucial for long-distance runs and made me feel as fresh as strong starting my second half together with the huge group of half-marathon runners (later when my legs were fatigued and stiff I would find great pleasure in seeing them fly by me with personal record times in mind).
Continued to feel good during the long climb that makes the first quarter of the course, managed to maintain a sort of decent pace after that, slower than I wanted to.. but ok. Hit a new kind of feeling around the 35-36K mark. Which was kind of interesting and new to me. I’m a firm believer in everything I do that when it starts to hurt and I feel like giving up I’m halfway there as far as what my body can do. So this was a first for me. I actually couldn’t run faster. I do realize I should have drank more water and gotten more sugar and salts from the stations. I just always feel that I don’t need to exaggerate intake during my runs, but my blood-sugar levels might have dropped faster due to my cold -I don’t know. I had been feeling light-headed for a week so it makes sense in hindsight. Also the cold temperatures contribute to underestimating thirst and the amount you’re actually sweating. Anyways!
BORING!
I had a bit of an outer body experience towards the end watching myself from the sideline running in true marathon-runner form. I’ve seen them. Usually aged 40-60+ : legs tight, core and glutes really engaged, arms close to torso, shorter quicker strides saving energy everywhere it can be saved. I suddenly felt older and wiser thinking to myself that time doesn’t matter. At that point I was just excited about the fact that I would soon finish my first marathon. I also started visualizing myself standing at the start line next year knowing all too well I’d forget this pain the minute I finished. Which also pissed me off a bit tbh as I wanted to run faster but couldn’t. Craving more pain than I was already in. I’m accustomed to enduring some physical pain and don’t really fear it because I know it’s so temporary. But for the first time I didn’t have a final sprint in me! Which is kind of amazing. It means I gave whatever I had in me that day and I can’t be anything but super proud of that.
Finishing at 4:19:54 I know I can do better though. I run faster than that, but it’s fine. No need to get greedy Viktoria, it’s not a good look.
I’m also realizing I still have a bit of a cold, which doesn’t make me less proud as I know sickness makes your body perform less than usual. I can’t wait for next year. I definitely have a time to beat and I’m hungry for more.
One of the other many reasons this was the best day in a long time was the people. The amount of pride I felt for everyone racing was unbelievable. Even the ones pushing through nudging everyone in their way. Followed by a quick turn of their heads with a little hand gesture followed by an annoyed but accepting nod by the receiver. Like a car blinking to the other driver after forgetting to signal before a turn to say “thank you” and “sorry” at the same time.
Each of us with a good reason to run. Each with a goal in mind. Each an internal struggle that makes the will to push through the signals your body is sending you asking you to stop. The body doesn’t really like long-distance running. It’s just not made for it and get into all sorts of damage because of it. Still, there we were. Thousands of people alone together with one thing in mind. Win over our bodies and get to that finish-line. Many people do it as a sport and competition. But running still is and will always be a lonely sport that can only be driven and achieved by one person. This feeling brought a tear to my eye mid-race and reminded me to look up and smile to the supporters along the way cheering their parents, daughters and sons, siblings, lovers and colleagues on. That of course all went to shit at some point and got replaced with an attempted smile that probably looked more like a sad clown towards the end.
As a conclusion I need to remind myself that a runner almost never have a perfect run. Be that on your daily morning-run or on race day. A knee acting up, the lower back, lack of sleep, sickness, stress and shortness of breath, stress in general, lack of motivation, weather, too much clothes, injuries, worn out shoes, cramps, blisters, phone battery dying leaving you without music, dehydration, low blood-sugar levels.. The list is endless. And now, post marathon, (that’s my life now, a new life and a new me because I ran a marathon and that’s me now, left feeling a little bit without a goal in life atm wanting the day all over again) I need to focus more on other stuff again. Work. Love-life. Wine.. Aaaand (wait for it..) running!
Because those days when you’re blessed by the Universe and get a run in close to perfect conditions and with perfect form.. Those runs are like nothing else and keeps you going until you find it again.
I’m writing this yesterday, because today I’m preoccupied dressing, eating enough and drinking enough but not too much. In two hours I’m running a marathon.
I’ve even shaved my legs. Which (I can’t even blame it on being married since it started way before that) has become somewhat of a ritual before something big is about to happen. Birthdays, holidays, Christmas…sunny days. I don’t go around shaving my legs for no reason. I really don’t see the need to and will forever look up to those women who always have shit like that sorted out at all times.
Besides, I couldn’t shave my legs often even if I wanted to (I don’t) -my legs get really defensive when touched more than twice a week (I don’t shave them that often). My leg hair-roots are highly sensitive and prefer it if I focus on other areas, like my armpits. Those guys aren’t sensitive at all. On the bright side my legs are really soft should an occasion special enough to deserve this kind of attention occur. Like today.
Actually they’re not really that silky soft anymore since I’m writing this yesterday. (Busy eating and dressing etc., remember?) But they’re still dressed for the occasion and beat most days.
I’ve been looking forward to this day since the day I bought the ticket several months ago.
And it feels weird to say I’ve trained for this marathon.. because I haven’t. Not really. I’ve just gotten an extra excuse to spend more time running. Had a reason to test a couple of times how a really long run felt like. I never knew I’d love it as much as I did. It’s almost unfair to the people who run and hate running; I wouldn’t wish anyone who didn’t love running to run. Never. Your body doesn’t love it. it takes a lot of time. And very lonely I can imagine for a person who doesn’t like it. Long-distance running is always a lonely activity. It’s you. Your breath. no one would care if you’d stopped. The pounding on the ground. Rhythm. That sweet-spot you know you can go km after km at. There’s no measuring as to whether you finished or did good except time and distance. But you always succeed. Even if the run was small and sluggish, you still went for a run. You still won.
I felt like I was training once though. The couple of weeks after I got very bad shinsplints and a bad knee and couldn’t walk properly. I did som alternative stuff at the gym and hated it. Apparently I had really wrong shoes for running (fuck that guy, whoever you are at the sportswear shop) and the pain slowly went away after I got new ones. I haven’t cried since.
Joking, of course I have. But for different reasons than lack of running.
It’ll be exciting to see how today’s race feels like. I reckon I’ll either hate it or absolutely love it. I’ll either get anxiety from the crowds and feel too pressured to move or breathe at all and die mid-race, or start searching for the next race in a city I’ve always wanted to go to but never had a reason to the next day. Whichever it is I’m really proud of myself. This is a leap longer than I’ve taken in a long time. I’m believing in myself enough to sign up to something so publicly, telling everyone who crossed my path since knowingly that I’ll physically be feeling something close to a panic attack for several hours. Heart pounding, sweat dripping whilst looking like.. I don’t even want to give it a name, because I’ll actually be looking like myself. And not only accept that, but to embrace that.
That’s why I’m so proud of myself.
Myself..; tired, nose running (got a cold this week, obviously), sweaty, red faced and very possibly crying (not that a crowd’s ever stopped me from doing the latter).. I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that that’s also me. In the last year I’ve gained kilograms, fats, muscles -I don’t care and I don’t wanna know! I feel, for the first time that I can remember, not ashamed of my body. I don’t like all of it at all times, but (for now) I can honestly say I don’t really feel the responsibility to do anything about it.
My upper arms for example. I’ve never been happy with my upper arms. Why, I don’t know. If I didn’t feel they were embarrassingly thin and had to be put away before seen, they were massive and definitely to be put away before anyone, myself included, laid their innocent eyes on them. I can probably count on one hand how many days I’ve been just the right amount of weight that made me comfortable with my arms. And that’s including water-weight and temperature. It’s thinner than I’d want it to be. That’s why I’ve decided to not care anymore. It doesn’t matter how they look -they’re not there to look like – anything..! They’re there for far more important stuff. Like holding a glass of wine. And hugging. And that’s what I have to remind myself the days that I do care. I can’t and shouldn’t control how my body looks, that shouldn’t and never should have been in my hands. It’s a huge relief.
I thought about running for charity of some sort. But then I thought this one’s for me. Today’s definitely mine.
Since I’ve become a bit of a mole lately (the animal not the exciting sexy kind) yesterday was the first drunk I’ve been in about two or three weeks. Self-proclaimed wine expert and hedonist this leaves me in a sort of record-breaking zone which I’m delighted to finally experience.
Anyways. Ten girls and one of the best ones I know getting married called for dedication so I obviously did my part.
So did she. What a lady. Graceful day-drunkenness at it’s finest.
Naturally I’ve barricaded myself inside for the rest of today, laughing at the sun and everyone in it. I’ll eat my ice cream from the comfort of my own couch thank you very much. Christmas 2018, you are most welcome. Me nor my plants need warmth or daylight to survive and only one of us water and wine.
This sun isn’t agreeing with my baby facial hair either and I’m suddenly very respectful of the women out there fierce enough to walk into a parlor and waxing it off. I’ll rather just leave mine to be honest. The shame of having it and being ashamed of it paying to get someone else removing it seems bigger to me, personally, than just having it and owning it whilst silently disowning it. I remove a lot of unwanted hair on my body but draw the line at armpits.
Actually, come to think of it, it’s the rising temperature and social pressure that comes with it that’s really my issue. Sun-and daylight is fine as long as it’s about 5 degrees celsius.
I can’t wait for my head hair to get longer. I wonder if it’ll be long enough for a ponytail this summer.. I wonder what kind of summer this will be.. Ah, the pressure of sun and summer! Cannot even with it today and am going back to my tv. Very happily so. Happy as a clam. In her pajam.
I’ve been working so hard lately sewing, designing, traveling and shooting, I took the last couple of days off. Had this years first beer in the sun, started reading a book. Caught up on mah reality.. Which is mainly grownup women screaming at each other.
And last night I did some of this. Which is the ultimate proof of a real inner peace and preservation of ones health.
Got me thinking about the fact that it’s Friday the 13th and how much I miss Michael Myers <3
Going to a bachelorette party in a couple of hours and feeling ready. And it’s probably a good thing as I’m in real danger of becoming one with the couch. Squeezing in a run first, then those hoes can bring it.
Have a great weekend!
And if not, take comfort in knowing that Khloe had her baby as well as found out her Tristan cheated on her in a week’s time. Rich bitches get burnt too <3
Last week I got attacked by this easterbunny because my reflexes are too strong and it suddenly plunged into death when I tried to open up the window.
Some nerve. I couldn’t move my hand for several days (it hit some nerves) and some of the splints pierced just about right through my hand. Felt like Chance in Homeward Bound at the vet and still have some pieces left squatting inside of me as we speak.
Not only does nature fail you at times, man-made stuff does too and are way more frustrating. At least the plant has a reason and purpose for this attitude that is to protect itself from the elements.
This is just plain stupid.
Why the actual fuck would someone seal something Oh, so fragile as aluminum foil with a one centimeter stubborn piece of tape? Astonishing. Leaves you with this shit.
And there ain’t no way my pita was gonna fit into either side of those skinny bitches. No wonder our environment’s going to shit. We don’t care. Waste? Problem?
I figured there’s no way all of this is coincidental (the shower enclosure, the bunny in the windowsill, the foil.. not to mention the side of my bed who’s provided me with a juicy bruise at the exact same spot on my upper left thigh for as long as I remember).
My surroundings are clearly attacking me. So I saged the place. To the point of actually feeling a bit high. At least my placebo is intact after all this realness and I could enjoy some inner peace, if only for a couple of minutes.
It felt good. The place feels good. It is easter, after all. If not now when is it more appropriate to be reborn?
I’ve actually experienced this so many times I’ve built up some sort of arrogance and mild hatred towards people who don’t have crippling problems in their lives or have gone through obstacles so big they had to change their whole way of viewing the world and the people in it, how we relate to and affect one another .
Horrible! I know. It’s disgusting.
I’m not saying that anyone’s (!!) problems are smaller than others. If it breaks your heart and ruins your day when your boyfriend never listens to you therefore leaves his dirty socks on the floor every day, I will fully support your emotions. I will listen and respect your agony. No comparison in pain, never. If it’s hard for you – I hear you bro. I’ll (try to) keep my mouth shut, but may share a thought on how you perhaps maybe possibly could open up to the idea that he might indeed be listening to you but doesn’t view the world quite like you do and prioritize differently.
Like forgetting to buy toilet paper at the shop it is not a malicious act done towards anyone. No-one gains from that and is rarely done with intent.
Our only reference in life is ourselves and our own experiences, I totally know that. I do feel though, (in this open-hearted society we’ve become, which is great), that we’ve lost a piece of the art of letting other people’s problems be their own. I think that always feeling understood and becoming closer to each other via experiences isn’t always the goal of the conversation, at least it shouldn’t have to be. And always met with it can leave you and your problems/issues/whatever it is you’re sharing feeling devaluated or taken lightly. I think sometimes the point of opening up to each other should be to learn from our differences and experience how fascinating and eye opening it can be hearing about something you never would’ve imagined could be a problem. To not try to identify with it, but take our place as a receiver of information rather than a participant in the story. A “Thank you for educating me. That sounds hard and I’m sorry you have to go through this” can be a real confidence-boost and just the validation the person needed. Give credits to their problem. There’s nothing (nothing) less motivating than telling a story at a party only to have your next of kin over there stating that the exact same thing happened to them. Guilty as charged here btw, because I’m a fucking idiot too. We’ve all done it!
Because understanding is good. Don’t get me wrong. Even if you don’t actually, it can be comforting hearing that someone gets you. It’s sometimes the only thing we can come up with as a response to something we feel is difficult to hear. And it can be nice that someone feel like they go through the same as you do, even I can feel that (rarely, but I do dabble in the pool of public emotional coalescence from time to time). What I’m talking about now has been a build up over several years of people understanding mewhen I knewthey didn’t.
You may be causing damage in “meeting” them in their problems without intending to.
After so many years of oppressing and brushing away my problems thinking I was weak and stupid when others (clearly with the same challenges as myself, they all could “relate” to them?) could overcome them so easily. I know better now but feel hard for the desperate ones out there wondering why they too couldn’t get out of their depression once they reached their goals. Why they couldn’t stop cutting themselves like fucking Brenda did. Why your stuttering and blushing didn’t end in high school but escalated to the point of damaging your career twenty years later. Why someone’s summer-diet became near death for you.
Make sure you’re on the same page before putting yourself in the same category as someone else struggling.
I know I’ve been talking about this issue before from various angles. But just yesterday at my fave morning show it hit me when they referred to small-talk-challenges and how to get away from social uncomfortableness as social anxiety. I get offended, can’t help it. And not long ago when that dermatologist I went to asking about my health and medication etc, asking with a laugh if everyone wasn’t a little bipolar from time to time?
Funny. It can be funny. I’m game for a laugh about it. But the second it’s over, the second I leave the clinic, that pit starts to manifest and tears well up and I feel like I just stepped on not only myself and my own fight, but everyone else behind me’s. Especially those worse than me. And this is important! Because miscommunication like this can lead people to think that the stated disorder is as relatable as it is common. It leads to an uneducated population unable to recognize problems when they’re staring at them, begging to be seen. This is why #metoo is so important and feminism isn’t as normal as having an IQ over 10. When norms and certain social behavior is being passed on from generation to generation, even from thousands of years ago through art, as acceptable it becomes really hard changing people’s minds, showing them that the world isn’t supposed to look like that when that’s all they’ve ever seen.. Once we fully accept something as “normal” it’s attention drops. And we must keep the attention on “real” mental health issues (like physical health all mental health issues are just as valid as a broken leg is to a stumped toe -but you get the picture) up and rising, and not make the mistake of normalizing it too much. To a point where it loses it’s force and becomes something every person goes through. Like #metoo we have to educate that everyone is affected by our mental health, mental health is inevitable, good or bad, and we will all face challenges. But also that there are clear lines, very clear lines, separating issues caused only by environment and those only by genetics/hereditary factors. And lots and lots in between. We need to shed more light on how normal it is with challenges of that sort in life, but also protect the more severe cases from falling into the same category.
And being awkward when at a party introduced to new people, trying to slip away, is not the same as a crippling social anxiety. It is within normal range of emotions. I don’t need to be understood by everyone. I’d be undermining my struggle and I’d be making a fool out of myself and my listener. And I don’t want to lower my already embarrassingly low expectations towards human knowledge and interest in developing it’s compassion and understanding towards others, so in some cases it’s best to not encourage people. As I too, must shut the fuck up sometimes and remind myself that I have never actually had the stated issue. Like, not really.
Can we all tread a bit more lightly maybe in always concluding that we’re coming closer through sharing personal problems rather than just listening and letting them be what they actually are, personal?
Last week I had three panic-attacks. Which is equivalent to what I experience throughout a whole year, maybe. Brought on by very different reasons, but all got me thinking how fragile we are and how hard it can be to receive help. It also brought the harsh reminder of how much it hurts and how fear of anxiety fuels anxiety itself.
It is really hard to trust and start over again after your prophecy has fulfilled itself. Your fear of a certain situation turning out in the worst possible way has become true. -Now what? If you’re living with panic anxiety or/and (in my case) social anxiety (which is not all that common a thing btw; it’s a disorder which affects around 15% of the population), you live in more or less constant fear of your bad experiences happening again. I fear it just about every day of my life.
To people who hasn’t experienced it: you feel like you are going to die. Which would understandably be terrifying for everyone. And during all of this, to have people around you not understanding, belittling or dismissing the situation.. it makes my heart bleed and my eyes roll back to the point of which I can see my temporal lobe just thinking about it. And almost glad that I have it. So that I can at least respect and feel total sympathy for the person going through it. The feeling of suffocating is “only” the result of physical discomfort and pain over a period of time (be that seconds or several hours. Except panic attacks. Those fuckers hit you like lightning from clear sky on a bright summer fucking day). It leaves your body exhausted and your mind fatigued. It’s been a week almost since my last one and I’m still drained.
I just used a phrase ^ start again because that’s what it feels like after incidents like this. Sometimes you can see it for what it really is; a bad experience, and move on. Other times you’ll regress. Feel like everything you thought you knew was wrong and you must indeed fear those situations. And that feeling can be paralyzing. I can stay in for a week at times after having a panic attack. Why wouldn’t I when people out there can make me feel this way? Wouldn’t you?
I’m trying really hard not to diminish people who haven’t gone through the same’s understanding and compassion, I really am. ‘Cause I’ve seen people making fun of it, of me, anxiety disorders.. I’ve been laughed at before, and I’ve been laughed at now. Again your fear has been proven right, so how can you trust anyone not to make fun of your disorder again? It’s a horrible feeling. Imagine coming home from war with no-one understanding why you’re so affected by loosing a leg. I hate comparison and am obviously not good at it, but people don’t get it! So I’ll use this farfetched one.The principles are the same -you’re traumatized while others laugh at your feelings telling you you should be happy to be alive. No harm done, right? So to trust someone again, when your other leg’s about to be amputated (hahaha ? -bad at comparisons), it would be hard, yes? Why would you even tell anyone how it feels?
I guess what I wanna say today is this: If you don’t understand something, at least take people seriously for whatever they’re hurting for. And for you going through something; Reach. Out. I called the little one in one of my incidents last week and she jumped in a cab to find me sobbing at a cross section. Even though my immediate reaction was to never want to see anybody ever again, I know from past experiences this won’t do any good and have learned to reach out. Anxiety hates daylight. And company. Call someone and get it out. (If you have no one you can write to me if it helps <3)
Nothing is ever stupid.
If it feels real to you – it’s as real as a car crash.
You’re not weird.
You’re not weak.
Someone feels the same and you’re not alone.
Choose your friends wisely. Only you know what’s best for you.
You can always leave the room. If you’re scared of how people will react just say afterwards “I wasn’t feeling very well and had to leave the situation”. You won’t believe how many people didn’t understand me or respect me for simply saying “I’m not very comfortable in this situation, I’ll just step outside for a moment” : NO ONE. If you own it they’ll respect you for acknowledging it. People’s perception of us is very much affected by how we carry and feel about ourselves. It’s not a weakness to have fears -you’re defying it and already winning (shhh, this is a secret).
Never apologize.
You don’t owe anyone anything. You owe yourself to take care of yourself.
Try not to let it control you. Remember that it was a thought and/or a isolated physical experience -you weren’t really dying. It wasn’t really dangerous even though it felt like it. This is crucial to understand in overcoming anxiety.
With that said, I never said I knew everything about overcoming anxiety disorders. Nor that I’ll ever be cured. All I know is that I do stuff I wouldn’t dream of doing three years ago. I know in my heart and body how to deal with uncomfortable (potentially life-treathening situations), it’s almost a reflex now. And I know how to recover from the rare extreme incident and not blame myself for it or feel stupid. I also know I can easily cut out whatever’s causing me unnecessary stress. That’ll give me surplus of energy to deal with the challenging stuff that I can’t avoid, like work etc.
Prioritize! Heal when you can, gather your troops and give yourself a real big dosage of love. You’re doing great, you’re still here and you actually know yourself and others a little bit better for it.
Have a lovely weekend, I’ll be keeping a low profile with my man knowingly that I’m still fit for fight and stronger than ever. Just a different fight than that of the average Joe’s.
So fucking over myself, can’t wait. Aaaand we’re seeing the little one play tonight. I’m as anxious about going out in public as I am excited to see her.
Didn’t sleep more than a couple of hours last night, absolutely dreading my appointment with my physiotherapist. Meeting with someone and talk about physicality? Being judged? Almost everyone can relate to this. So I’m bracing myself for the very high possibility of feeling stupid and weak in a couple of hours. Must remember that it’s not true and that he goes through hundreds of self-aware idiots like myself a year. He doesn’t care. I’m wasting precious energy and money thinking he has any other agenda than helping me out. Must remember this and accept help.
I’m exhausted by my head so I’ll definitely probably drink too fast tonight. I’ll try drink mindfully. Apparently there’s a difference.
Have an awesome Women’s Day. I’ll be spending it with these two remarkable women.
I’m in such a muffled place nowadays. Foggy. Standing still.. I just wanna be alone, every day.
Not that I’m particularly happy alone, I just feel kinda.. stable, maybe. As stable as can be at least. Truth is I haven’t been feeling very good about my situation recently. One second I’m feeling very strong and content with how I’m, very healthily and happily (by choice), living my life now. No restrictions, no numbers, no rules.. Next I’m completely lost missing my routines that, (seemingly) made my world go ’round and keep all of my shit together. My whole self it feels. Worth. Identity.. It’s all I think of, all day every day. These two thoughts battling for attention. These two truths.
I don’t think I know exactly how to be this,, this person, that I supposedly am right now. I’ve currently lost sight and it’s all a fog. I need binoculars. Because I can’t see the borders and I’m struggling adapting to that.
It’s far easier it seems living an unhappy life. Especially around people, I can’t deal with social me. I can barely deal with awake me.
I have an appointment tomorrow and I don’t wanna go to sleep ever.
I attempted a little run today. As soft on my feet as I could be, respectfully giving thanks to my legs for every impact. The euphoria looking over Bergen basking in the low sun made it impossible for me to stop tears from escaping my armor. I felt the happiest I’ve felt in weeks. I had to pace myself, like a malnourished person I had to physically touch my legs to enforce the signal for them to slow down; I’m doing this to help you, slow down.
When I reached my building after the shortest 5km I’ve ever seen I felt paralyzed. But 5km was my cue.. I couldn’t go inside the building so I sat down on my stoop and cried instead.
If strong is the new skinny, and you can’t be strong as you want to be.. Where does that leave you.
This round I want to focus on my social anxiety and panic attacks. And whenever I embark on another journey filled with hope towards an anxiety-free life I get super-sensitive. My anxiety increases and I’m even more self-conscious than I usually am. Spending most of my life in survival mode, painting layers upon layers over bad experiences and fears knowingly that my free space is decreasing – stripping it down and looking at it’s rough raw surface with bad experiences and weaknesses is way morse. So I have very ambivalent feelings towards the whole thing. Seeking help. The cost of going there can be so big. So I really need this to be worth my while.
I walz in there, hesitant -but confident, with my usual guards up and start presenting myself. Few questions in considering my presence and how I got here and I start balling
…
Why though??? Whenever I’m really faced with questions about how much pain my anxiety is causing me from, say, one to ten and to which extent it affects my everyday life it’s impossibleto think of a worthy answer. And my reaction is always the same. Nothing but despair. And the feeling that no one will ever understand how it feels to be so aware of your own challenges yet so incapable of doing anything about it is sometimes unbearable. And very painful when met with anything but utter respect and compassion.
I get so pissed when someone sees that. Especially authority. Then I definitely can’t stop crying. Even when I’d stopped crying, I wasn’t done crying. Probably doing all sorts of facial expressions trying to divert him from the fact that I was, in fact, still crying. It was right there under that trembling lip the whole time till the moment I stepped out of his office. Nay! Till I got home actually! Mustn’t forget the teary way home.
I’m not looking for much in a psychologist really. Listen to my challenges. Then fix them.
Seriously though, respect my pain and occasionally shut up and let me cry it out before I pull myself together for fucks sakes. Try to understand why I am the way I am and why I cope the way I cope. I didn’t get any of this from him. He definitely didn’t get why I was so emotional. He actually laughed at some of the things I said, asking me which study I had this none sense from? And if he could use it in one of his talks? I mean what the fuck, am I being pranked? I don’t like feeling ridiculed. Goddamnit that crying.
Why do half the people who become psychologists even become psychologists? Bet there’s loads of fucked up reasons. But the good ones save lives and I’m searching for my rescue. Ever hopeful, ever open. I’ll just save myself a bit longer for now. Can’t have anyone else with a degree confirm why I don’t trust them in a while, and he actually managed to close the curtains for now. Power to ya!
Here’s an outtake from this photoshoot I had two minutes ago in my hall mirror. It has a concave line in the middle which is equivalent to perfection as far as self image goes.
Had to go all the way up here to look pretty again. Don’t ever forget how pretty I actually am.
Wouldn’t go out all high and mighty though. So I leave you at this handsome fella, bye
My fucking bathroom-door exploded in my face! My entire body, actually. haha! What, how??! why??
Felt like an action-hero for a second there.
I am a little bit guilty in one of the charges.. That door hasn’t been closing properly (bent inwards kind of -which is how I like to leave them after a shower. Makes the bathroom bigger and I feel like it airs out more) for a very long time and has lead to many a bad decision-makings post-showers during that time. Crushed foundation bottles, stubbed toes.. So I might have closed it a little harder than I might have possibly had to. Thing is I’ve been so frustrated (blame lack of outlets) and I took it out on my bathroom-door. I’d also ended the last two minutes of my shower ice-cold (try it) and was very amped when I got out.
It was very dramatic, it exploded everywhere. It was like it was holding a grudge and was finally able to do some damage.
Cold, naked and vulnerable -pieces of glass in my face, hair and all over body I froze for a minute. I was shook. I literally couldn’t move. Then I laughed. I laughed so hard I almost peed myself. Which in hindsight only would have been the icing on this cake I was making of humiliation. As all my towels are conveniently stored in the bathroom, which was now off limits for obvious reasons, I ended up tiptoeing shivering around my apartment dripping water shedding small pieces of glass.
What a vision.
After calming myself I remembered the slippers. RIP and thank you for saving my life and the neighbors for further embarrassment.
After reentering the war zone, with (lets be honest) a bit of ptsd, getting a towel and getting rid of the glass stuck to my body I did what everyone would do in that situation. Blowdried my hair.
Cleaning up all of my fifteen cuts I scooped up all the mess and vacuumed for about an hour. Seriously. We all know glass are tricky motherfuckers and small pieces of evidence of this day will hide for years to come.
Then this.
I mean.., clearly I’ve been using my bathroom too recklessly for too long and it is now retaliating.
I then left the premises and went out for a couple of drinks with the other one. Who, for the record, arrived to the whole mess when I was blowdrying.
All in all, very dramatic. But I feel like me and my bathroom are closer than ever. I appreciate it more and we’ve come out the other side stronger than ever and I look very much forward to a brighter future together. With new doors. Which I’ve wanted forever. Cheers!
We all find ways to cope with difficult things. Without them we wouldn’t function and all humans would die within next Tuesday. Anger, grief, we’d either kill ourselves or everyone around us if we didn’t have alternative outlets and coping skills. I’d be dead for sure.
I have a lot of self-made coping mechanism, routines and compensating behavioral patterns in order to survive and hold my head above water on a daily basis. One of my most important one’s become running. I sometimes lie in bed unable to sleep out of excitement about where I’m gonna run the next day.
And what I’m gonna eat obviously.
When I found this huge outlet it saved me a little bit. Not alone of course, but I found an outlet for anger and pain, a place of peace. It makes me, like weird-happy. I sometimes laugh out loud while I’m running. And cry for that matter. Reaching a top, a nice view, a snowflake caught.. A smile from a stranger passing by. I often do both at the same time. I can cry after a good run, crying can be the reason why I go for a run in the first place.. I’m in my body when I run, I don’t care about anyone but myself. I’m in charge. I’m strong. I trust my body and I love it for pushing me forward with great confidence. And I seldom feel that. Above all it changed my relationship with my body and how I treat it. You need fuel in order to run. You need to eat a lot. Including carbohydrates. Which, btw, has been the victim in one of the biggest diet scams in history. There’s way worse things out there than bread. And to maximize your energy levels you need carbs. I’ve found. After fifteen years of dreading them.
You also can’t drink all the time if you’re running. Which was a huge coping mechanism for me earlier. Even when I was alone I’d drink to deal. I never do that now.
So what happens when you lose that relief?
I’ve been d.e.v.e.s.t.a.t.e.d and totally at my wits end the last couple of days after getting what I believe is shin splints in my right shin and thigh splint in my left thigh. Probably from my feet arching kinda inwards and over-doing it on hard surfaces without enough time to heal. It happened in a second though, I was totally blindsided.
The other one’s saying welcome to aging. I can’t stop crying.
So, conveniently enough (’cause I just joined the gym), I’ve had to do alternative training. Which means I have to go to the gym several times a week. Even when it’s nice outside and I could have had what I believe is the closest thing I’ll ever come to having a religious experience, a beautiful long run. I am now at the gym. Doing something I never see running as; working out. Something that reminds me of not being happy with your body and wanting to alter it for the better. I hate that. (Also get that that’s not the only reason people go to the gym. fyi.)
So now I have to get on the tram, or whatever it’s called –Bybanen, to go to my gym. Dread facing the people on the tram, in the counter, people in the changing room, god forbid bumping into someone I know, and doing all of the above all over again when I’m done. Only this time with a red face and heart pounding even faster. It’s so draining and I’m so scared of what’s gonna happen if I’m too tired of doing it. I’m in such a good place with food now and I’m terrified of that changing again. I can feel how fragile this relationship is and how willing I am to ruin my body for the cause of keeping it that way.
So I’m feeling very socially drained. And with a bit of a broken spirit. I’m not surprised how important running is for me. I am however of how much it’s absence affects me. And I know it means nothing if I have to slow down. And that it’s not a big deal, not in the long run. But things are as real as one experience it, I do believe that. So I won’t apologize for my reaction either. I’d rather shave my head than not run again. To others a shaved head would be death. And right now it feels like the ground beneath me is crumbling and I’m unable to do anything about it. So don’t even think about comparing it to something worse. I know there’s people out there with no legs or water, I get it.
The construction workers are blowing away a mountain right outside my window. Can’t help but laugh when I’m listening to it. Mountain, I get you.. You didn’t choose this. About to blow up myself.
Yesterday, on my way home from the gym, I missed the tram by about 30 meters because it hurt too much to run. I cried all the way home. On the next tram (I’m so used to crying in public at this point in my life I’m not even embarrassed about it). I wouldn’t be able to leave the house if I had to be one hundred percent sure I wouldn’t tear up over something at some point. I don’t care, I have too much stuff to care.
I’ve set foot in two gym’s in my life. One in my old town when I was around fifteen and briefly tried to work out to get skinnier. I quickly found out I wasn’t one to lift and squeeze all day, I had better things to do, and quit after a year or so to venture out on new paths towards thigh gaps, arms that went in on both sides of the elbow and destruction.
Second gym I’ve seen was the one I went to last winter. Just down the road from here is a small gym. Went there for a couple of months before the wind softened and ice melted. It’s a dump. Outdated and mostly enjoyable for the senior groups I saw on numerous occasions sitting around a table eating fruit and cookies after sessions in one of the outdated rooms I can imagine. They seemed very happy. It was cute. But the ladies working there were total assholes. Rude and wouldn’t let me wear a sleeveless top. Are you fucking kidding me? Sometimes they didn’t even say Hi. It was mostly five people there and I’d walk right past them entering. I know you see me!
And now this one. The one I joined today due to shitty weather. This is a big new one! Lots of treadmills on the second floor pointing outwards, big windows, all kinds of offers like swimming pool, hot yoga, squash, endless of sessions for everything.. Not that I’ll ever use any of it. I’ll just pay a ridiculous amount of money to use a treadmill overlooking a road and a carpark.
I also had to pay 450 NOK for a session with a personal trainer. Which I politely asked the lady if I could skip since I wouldn’t really be needing it. She smirked and laughed at me while she, in a very condescending manner, said that “No, no -you’ll want to do that, you do. You don’t turn that down” whilst glancing at her partner who smirked back. Smirked!!! It wasn’t even an option! I had to pay money for a session with a personal trainer I have NO interest whatsoever to meet with. I actually thought about asking her if she could make an exception due to mental illness. But decided not to since I don’t owe her an explanation on why I wouldn’t be needing one, it’s my business. But hey, don’t ask me why.. Just assume I think I know everything and feel that I’m too good for your pathetic little trainers, that I’m above that shit. Assume that, go ahead.
I don’t want one ’cause I just wanna run. I just enjoy running and it quiets the voices harassing me every day without running. I don’t wanna be aware of how I run, how to improve it or hear how I can get leaner and stronger arms, I don’t need to.
I’ll just pretend I died and not answer him when he suggests time and date.
I felt totally belittled and stupid for even being there.
Why the FUCK, can someone please tell me, do people working at the gym think they’re better than the rest of us? Why? Do they think they’re the only one’s with knowledge of the human body? Last time I checked it takes a year, A SINGLE teeny-tiny year, to become a personal trainer. You don’t know shit about the human body and mind compared to at least a hundred other occupations. And people, normal people, are at the gym for crying out loud – most of us scared shitless to even be there because of assholes like you. We’re here to work out.. Break a sweat. Pause the lives we lead for others. It’s a beautiful thing putting off time to yourself, focusing on becoming stronger. Cheer us on, please. I wanna see a look on your face that fucking screams “I am so proud of you for deciding to come in here today! Have a GREAT FUCKING WORKOUT!! YOU.. -YOU LEGEND!!!!”
I’ve been uncharacteristically social this week, as in the week when the other one’s working and I’m on my own. And it got me thinking, because I always fear not having enough time for myself. I’m scared of people wearing me out. Because they’ve done that for so many years.
I see it as reclaiming power and a self-preservation thing. But it got me thinking! Time for what? How do I charge? Do you ever think about that, what you do when nobody’s watching? The essence of yourself?
The realness is almost too real to share with the real world. I see myself as one of the lucky ones. I’m in a relationship that allows me to still get alone-time on a regular basis. It has it’s down-sides, but it does keep a loner sane. These are some og the things I do:
No washing of the face in the morning. Besides my eyes, I just let those natural oils give my skin a treat and keep my dirty paws off of it. No make up. Wash and moisturize before sleep.
Eat dinner at two/three o’clock. Four at the latest. I know that a hot meal mid-day is something people around the world refer to as lunch. We don’t. Norwegians eat brødskive med pålegg at lunch. Knekkebrød if you’re healthy. Or if you just prefer it. No shame in anyone’s food game. We save our left-overs or newly prepared hot meals for the occasion that is Dinner. When I choose to eat again (at dinner-time usually, around seven) I call it kveldsmat. Eveningfood. And is normally what Norwegians have for lunch.
I almost never eat meat. It’s expensive and I rarely want it, and I’m happy eating boring food based on basically different sorts of pasta and chickpeas.
I wear pajamas all day every day.
Jokes. I do that when the other one’s home too.
I sleep with my curtains a bit open. I love waking up being reminded it’s a new day and yesterday is the past. Was yesterday good, you start again. Do good, again. Was it bad, today don’t have to be.
I talk to myself. Sometimes to the reality shows that dominates my screen as well while I’m working.
Good morning, me.
I do more housework. Everything is neat. Clean. I throw stuff away. Donate. Sometimes I clean out the other one’s closet. One colorful slogan t shirt at a time.
I drop all work at nine, then I watch crime-series. Currently Broen.
I never skip intro’s. Netflix. And I’m still watching.
Pee with the door open.
I drink less alcohol. Probably because I’m not very social. I’m usually not with people unless there’s alcohol involved. I don’t get why I would meet a friend that I’m kind of close to for a hike. Or coffee. Or anything that’d get my heart rate up. Coffee is best at home.
Have more evening snacks. Or, you know, more kveldsmat. Nibble.
Run more.
Bite my nails more.
I groom more. Foot baths. Pedicures. Hair masks, face masks.
Looking at this it’s quite obvious I’m in a subconsciously state of bettering myself in some way when I’m home alone. Grooming, cleaning, over-analyzing what my body’s telling me at all times, not drinking or doing anything remotely ‘damaging’ that could possibly lead to anxiety. Or being tired or feeling overwhelmed. Not on top of it. Just focusing on my fucking self all the time.
It’s a good thing I get that week+ to do that. But I’m also grateful I have someone to stop me from being constant submissive to my fears. I think I’d be cutting myself off from the rest of the world without, living by myself as a single woman with social challenges working from her own apartment.. And that I’d live life scared to go out without having done my routines perfectly, feeling perfect. My threshold would be so high. Quirks grow as we get older, and the more time we change life from happening because of them. And loneliness is a very dangerous thing. Getting a cat is nice, but sometimes when I’ve been cooped up in my apartment for a couple of days, taking out the trash or going to buy more honey can be challenging. Even cheese.
So today I joined a gym via the internet. No binding contract membership obviously. Don’t wanna give myself anxiety. But it’s snowing and this wind isn’t doing my rosacea any favors. So the treadmill is calling. I’ll do it for a month or two. At least till it doesn’t look like this anymore.
Point is. I try to do what feels right. But try to make sure I stay in not because I fear the opposite, but because it feels good. Then you go out. You’ll know when. Right before the fear of leaving your controlled environment kicks in. Not earlier than you’ve dared to be yourself with yourself a little bit. Don’t be Leonardo DiCaprio in The Aviator. Be more like Winona.
