I got the gift of food last night from a friend who appreciates food as much (maybe even more, we’ll find out over a fight one day) as I do and it was wonderful. WONDERFUL! Fine dining at it’s best. If you’re in Bergen and love tiny expensive food, seriously, check it out. You die. A little bit.
Also got this sweater from my mom so it was a very good day indeed yesterday.
I never shop myself. I spend all my money on student-loans, foundation, food, wine and lotion. So every time someone buys me something (usually the other one) I feel sooooo special and I wanna live in it till the day I die.
Woke up at eleven pretty hungover. Many courses means many wines. So many good wines.
So I’m very happy right here today. The bar’s been lowered and this is the best thing there is.
Do both, I say. Wouldn’t want that thigh-gap sneaking up on you either.
So now I’m sitting here looking at my ironing board
feeling drawn to the tv where I put on the show that forces celebrities to dance in skimpy outfits. Hilarious. Brave. Brave as fuck actually.
But as tired as I may be (I’ve been vertical for some time now -getting better) I feel so good. SO good. I’ve been feeling so sad lately. Over my thigh-gap. Haha. But seriously. There used to be a gap in my thighs now it’s a gap in my life.
I’ve been struggling with the fact that I’ve turned into a healthy grown up woman. I’ve never been so far down this road (weight-wice, guys). I’ve always been scared of imagining this point thinking that if I’d imagined it it could become true. I’m terrified of what’s gonna happen if I don’t turn around and start running the other direction soon. The rest of the story I haven’t written? I have no idea what’s gonna happen now? How will it end, which direction must I go , heck -I don’t even know for sure what the plot is anymore??
One thing’s for sure, I’m NEVER saying never ever again EVER in my life.
That’ll never be me.
I’ll never do that.
Because there you are one day.. eating not only every four hours or so but your own words. I seriously thought I’d never weigh over 50 kg again.
Ever.
I told myself that not only wouldn’t I allow that to happen, but that I was above that. If I thought of it as an impossible act – it would be. The ridiculousness of it all would cause an earthquake before that would even begin to think about maybe happen in the foreseeable future. Like my pride and superior way of thinking – soaring above other human’s primitive needs would shield me from loosing control in any way and actually live my life like a full person. A free person.
I must laugh at how little I’ve weighed over the years and actually thought of myself as fat. As this number to be my limit. My “roof” of numbers showed on a scale. And that I’d never get this fat again and start loosing weight the very next day. I’ve learned my lesson these last few weeks and will probably have to learn it again; just never.. Never say anything to yourself about yourself ever again. Don’t assess yourself, don’t think about what was and what is to be. Just fucking leave yourself alone. Most likely I’ll weigh more than I do today at some point. Just thinking that makes me wanna vomit in my mouth, let alone writing it for others to read. I feel fat now. Hahahahaha, I’m killing myself I’m too funny.
Anyways. I’ll leave myself alone now, let my beautiful, slightly softer body be and enjoy this glorious day with all the glorious assholes I look very much up to at the tv.
When I haven’t been out drinking wine obviously. I blame the cycling championship last week. And the sun. I seriously went out three times last week ! Definitely not nineteen anymore.. Definitely used my MasterCard.
I miss my thigh-gap. I lost it over the summer and there is a grief.
I wouldn’t call myself particularly balanced nowadays. Lot of ups and downs. So I’m fleeing, keeping myself busy. Which is fine I guess. Until you stop. I am really tired, though. But what goes up eventually has to fall down, so I’m just going with it for now. Now I’m off to meet the little and the first one, filming and having a meeting about the glorious future. So happy she’s back. She’s been away for weeks..!!
And I need her in my life.
I have absolutely nothing more to say now. Sometimes you run – sometimes you stay. And I have to run!
I am exhausted today. Feeling particularly exhausted in my bed looking out the narrow crack in my dark and heavy curtains over my second cup of coffee listening to cheers of children. Children who don’t necessarily know what they’re cheering for, I imagine. But their teachers are cheering even louder, why wouldn’t they? Long pauses followed by new waves of excitement and cowbells. Like the tide they’re rolling in as new bikes approach with cars and motorcycles as their companions. It’s such a beautiful sound. Wet pavement making this sound that almost sounds like what your mouth and tongue does when you barely open and close it rapidly.
Debating in my head whether I should peel myself off the bed, put some clothes on and start the million things I put off yesterday and swore to myself I’d do first thing, or just sleep till dark. I’m passively in this debate for a long time. Two hours gone. Three. The cheering as well. The silence so loud I can’t focus on anything, really. So I again turn to you. My friend, my hero, person who’s sick of me, my voice and sometimes (seems like) my only reason. A single tear of gratitude rolls down my cheek, to you. Surprisingly overwhelmed by gratitude for you for letting me talk to you and you for listening. I feel so much love for people today. My chest actually knots itself and it almost hurts to think of all the beautiful people. In this really difficult, beautiful thing that is life. So many stories inside all of these people and so much to learn. Tears are uncontrollable now and I think I just found the conclusion of my debate. I’m gonna get up and try, because that’s what we do.
Breakfast, no question about it. Crying over breakfast. Vacuuming. Crying like a toddler when cord gets caught up beneath the door to my living room. Fucking piece of shit cord. I’m gonna step on you, cord, tug you like a cross fitter tosses them big ropes if you don’t come fucking here right now..! A moment of telling myself to get my shit together, reminding myself of all the other shit, worse shit, going on in the world. A chuckle followed by new tears. Feeling ridiculous, wondering about all the other people feeling just as small and ridiculous as I at this very moment. I pass the mirror and see my tired eyes, realizing I actually don’t care. Refreshing.
Mom and the first one wants to take me out to the movies tonight. A joyful tear now accompanied by a smile, knowing that this day shall pass too. We’re all right.
I’ve never spent more time in the kitchen as I’ve done lately. I’m seriously learning how to make something new almost every day. It’s amazing. I’m so grown up and so very cool.
Even if it’s as simple as pesto. So easy. So elegant. How fucking classy to have friends over serving them fucking home-made hummus and pesto??! I almost can’t even with my new self.
I’ve always had a thing for foods with more ingredients than I’ve got fingers on my hand, though. It’s usually not good for you and you’ll probably die of cancer as a result of it.
On the other hand..! I’ve never beaten myself up about eating sour candy either. I honestly think that as long as you LOVE whatever it is you’re eating – it’s perfectly good for you. if you’re enjoying every bite it’s a healthy relationship. With food.
Your food relationship.
Purest most honest relationship you’ll ever have
…
I’m so serious it’s not even funny.
BUT! I’ve always tried to make my cookies, sauces and other stuff myself rather than buying the ones at the supermarket, you know? (obviously also buy the shit ones sometimes) But It’s all the numbers and names I can’t pronounce on the back (I can only assume aren’t foods) I try to avoid.
This mayonnaise, though.
That shit would just not happen and I need to call my friend Aicha next time.
But seriously, thank you for this.
This pie-making-session on the other hand.. (not from her cookbook)
How sexy is this?
The rollin’..
the flippin’..
the bubblin’ of the blueberries under the crispy surface made by almost only BUTTER!!!!
I die. Of pride.
Not making a habit out of this btw, don’t worry. Internet has enough pictures of amateur-food and I’m obviously aware of the fact that no-one needs to, nor should know what anyone eats at all times.
If you’re anything like me is variation the center of your diet. If I’ve eaten cheese, prosciutto and Christmas stick-meat for forever I tend to crave salads and vegetables at some point. If I’ve eaten a lot of sweet foods I tend to go savory afterwards. And now I’m obviously in a very curious period where all I wanna do is cook things from scratch and learn EVERYTHING green. The other night I spent four hours making dinner! Haha! I started around six, thinking we’d eat around eight -it was past TEN before we could sit down and die over falafels. The other one was happy though. He’s a nocturnal creature with an appetite that peaks around midnight. Whereas mine does at around one to three in the afternoon.
Anyways. Other one left yesterday and I drank just the perfect amount of wine at a new restaurant opening with my new friend and sommelier I met (and instantly developed what I can only assume is a longterm friendship with) as he served me beautiful food at Colonialen (I know – fooood, wine and MORE FOOOOD).
So today I’m only eating potetkaker with just the perfect amount of butter. I’ve had five so far.
Me and the other one went out on a much-needed date last night, and it was the best date EVER!!!!
So important.
Because boredom is always around the corner if you don’t make an effort. And I find we don’t talk about stuff at home..?! Like adult stuff. Intellectual stuff. Such as celebrity gossip and the costs of fossil fuels. It’s so weird. We go on about our lives, we’re in the apartment at the same time all the time, but not together, right? Obviously would go crazy if we were up in each others shit all the time, but sitting down talking.. I think that went out the window as soon as the television reached the average household.
Anyways. Today it’s Election Day and we have a GREAT night ahead. I’m not particularly involved in politics and have occasionally been one of those shits who didn’t vote
I know.. Shit.
But today I made my way down and voted. The other one holding my hand. Feeling very grown up and patriotic (also just watched Suffragette and am therefore having mixed emotions of women empowerment, guilt, and a bit of shame).
I do think it’s the cynic in me telling me it doesn’t matter what I do, though. World’s going to shits anyways, what I do, what Norway does, doesn’t really matter..? I don’t know. But it feels good! Caring, taking part in the hopes of a better future. Obviously can’t have that kind of negative attitude anymore and this is me now.
This attitude. Leaning up against the wall. No shits given.. Disgusting.
So here I’ll be for the rest of the evening. Sitting on red. Surrounded by green. Wearing blue.
And also, since I’m slowly turning into a responsible grown-up (at the very least definitely planning to over the next thirty years), I have been more involved in this election. We all need to. Especially after the whole situation our friends in the west are finding themselves in. Yikes.
I’m also making blueberry pie for the occasion. Because pie is the easiest cake-like thing to make without dairy. So I’m pretty stoked about that. So stoked I didn’t even shower. My hair can now stand on it’s own.
For the first time in my life I’m on a DIET! Whaaaat?!
It’s not a health-thing. At all. It’s a skin-thing. After spending many years, thousands of NOK, three painful laser treatments (which made me so swollen at one point I almost couldn’t open one of my eyes), antibiotics, some acidic-treatment -thing that left some open wounds and my skin burning for hours after application leaving me unable to do anything other than holding ice in a bag to my face (white girl problems, I know. But still, any issue, big or small to others, is as painful and big of a deal as it feels to YOU). SO! I have now started a.. I’m gonna call it Rosaiet! Haha. Diet just doesn’t sit right with me. Anyways. It’s basically just avoiding stuff that triggers flare-ups and worsening the condition overall. Mainly it’s food that release histamine, pungent / sour vegetables, citrus fruits and foods that are hard to digest. Dairy and red meat. And of course, the devil itself. Sugar.
In Italy. Not current state. Just current feels.
Lot of this is easy. Sugar is easily replaced by honey. Red meat I almost never eat anyways. Citrus I’ve always felt to be inflammatory, therefore somewhat avoided. I’ve never drank milk, just almond milk. Used to be soy milk actually, but also supposed to avoid soy. Quite bummed actually, soy yoghurt was a part of my everyday breakfast. But the hardest things are actually vegetables..! Who knew??! And chocolate and wine gum obviously. The hardest thing to give up so far includes the following:
Cheese (can still eat goat and -cottage cheese, thank you very much)
Ham and raw stuff that goes with the cheese. As well as figs. Haha. I have to change a lot of things apparently. Gimme the bread.
Spices (e.g. ginger, pepper and cumin, soy sauce and vinegar). Obviously chili, but I’ve avoided this forever and am not that stupid.
Anything containing sugar. Yay.
THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME EATING BETTER, CLEANER OR HEALTHIER. Obviously sugar is killing us, but that’s not the point. DO NOT MISTAKE THIS FOR AN INSPIRING EAT THIS – DON’T EAT THAT POST. THIS IS FOR ROSACEA VICTIMS.
(most of the stuff I’m avoiding is healthy anyways, okay. So just stop)
Thank the Universe I can indulge in pasta, bread and all starch one can imagine. Just too bad I can’t mix any of it with tomato sauce. And pizza I’ll make myself from now on. Sundays just have to change from now on. I’ll put.. I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out. San Marino Pizza on the corner will lose a dedicated sunday-customer.
Current state. Skin really good today actually.
But I’ll have to get creative! And I love focusing on food and cooking in a positive manner. What CAN I eat and HOW can I make it fabulously tasteful? And it’s not like it is for ever. I’ll do this for maybe a couple of months, see what happens, then start including things one by one.
On a different note -newfound respect for people dining out with allergies..! Wow. Tried going to an Italian restaurant without having tomatoes or dairy. She hooked me up with something eventually, but looked as uncomfortable and shocked as I felt. What if one’s allergic to dairy and don’t like tomatoes? Or just a vegan with a fucked up vegetable palette? I almost just asked for plain pasta, melted butter in a cup with a cucumber on the side.
On a positive note I had waffles for dinner yesterday. Which is fun. I can now and simply must now just eat whatever I can of whatever the fuck I can, at ALL times. I am very aware of this not turning into a negative excluding and perfecting of my diet. And so far I’ve actually eaten more “real foods” than I’d normally do. Probably because I never satisfy my real cravings. Like chocolate or ice cream, yoghurt and fruits. Never realized how much fruit I ate..
Things I do ignore though (one must also live and I would actually have to jump out of my kitchen window) includes the following:
White wine and sparkling wine (I avoid red wine, spirits and beer. Luckily cocktails’ve never been my thing. Red’s definitely the worst for rosacea and makes me swell up like a roasted tomato before bursting-point. So I’ve been avoiding that for a while now..)
Coffee
Exercise
It also says stress everywhere, which makes me laugh. Like if it was an option any of us would chose to do so.
And that’s it for this post. Happy eating and have a great rest of the week! I’m feeling strong and positive, quite stoked actually to have a whole new focus on my eating.
It’s all about what we CAN do to make our situation better. Not what we CAN’T do! Go, Us!!
Feeling as open and ready for a world full of wonders as these curtains we were forced to experience in the most random hotel I’ve ever been in, look. You’ve guessed it. Not Italy. Germany. Ugliest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
Now, did someone say pancakes for breakfast? I think I did.
I just quickly want to explain what FARIKAL is about and what our aspirations for the future are.
FARIKAL consists of
Stine Malene Foss Berg : Partner and Graphic Designer.
Iben Berstrøm : Partner and Head of Marketing and Communications.
Viktoria Lutterloh Aksnes : Partner and Fashion Designer.
FARIKAL started with Iben Bergstrøm’s realization of the huge lack of information about Norwegian craft techniques. This quickly resulted in the three of us coming together deciding to change that, little by little.
We’re very patient.
FARIKAL is all about two things:
Preservation and representation through reinvention of Norwegian heritage and crafts. We want to focus on bringing history and character into the products we produce. There are so many beautiful Norwegian crafts yet to discover and make more current, especially for younger generations. FARIKAL wishes to be in the lead of providing that for not only Norwegians but for the rest of the world.
Producing slow sustainable fashion as opposed to the dominating socially and environmentally destructive mass production in the fashion industry we see today and through building closer relationships to producers and buying more local raw-materials we hope to contribute to the movement of increasing our respect for fashion – decreasing our consumption. Making our consumers aware of our product’s history and origin we wish to encourage consumers to shop with more emotions and more appreciation. As we all know our beautiful planet can not keep up with our consumption, so this is and has to be the future way.
We are so proud and excited to find ourselves in the process of producing (right here in Norway..!) THREE garments inspired by our Craft Collection A/W 2017 to be sold at the end of September. We decided to start off small, producing in a very limited quantity and will be selling them in our pop up in Bergen and webshop.
See our first Craft Collection at http://farikal.com and subscribe to our newsletter to see what’s going on!
All photos by Øystein Grutle Haara
Model: Eleonor Katarina Bjerkelund
MUA: Miranda Aksnes
Hair: Jonas Jelti - Adam og Eva Bergen
The subject of my wedding-day came up yesterday on the morning show, and I realized I hadn’t really written about it in English? So I thought I’d do that today! Because I’m sure everyone’s DYING to hear about it.
As everyone can see I’m obviously married to the kindest, smartest, most handsome man alive. Just to make sure that that’s very clear before we embark on this journey that is my experience of my wedding-day.
I’m sorry to anyone this will offend.
Due to some poor decision-making the day before e.g. me taking charge of basically setting the entire wedding up alone because of my control-issues and ever-lasting optimism in myself (I CAN DO EVERYTHING MYSELF THANK YOU VERY MUCH), running around like a crazy person catching a cold doing so, not eating or drinking properly, staying too long in the freezing tent not leaving any time to myself checking in and preparing myself for the marathon a wedding is, and if I’m being very picky; ruining my nails. For someone who couldn’t give less of a shit about nails (this obviously wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back !!), I certainly hadn’t sustained from biting them for the last couple of weeks (do you know how much focus and dedication, not to mention the stress of it all, that creates?) paying more than a bottle of Veuve Clicquot to get them all fucked up the following day. I’d planned on getting a massage that day.
Anyways.
At the end of the day, feeling let down and left on my own and my destructive thoughts -I was exhausted. Shivering with a fever I knew the night and following day wasn’t going to be what I’d hoped for. A drink that felt toxic to my already aching body with the happy attenders at the restaurant we chose for pre-wedding-day-mingling I left early with pain in my joints and anger all over me. I wanted to scream.
I usually have a set of rules and “truths” that needs to be fulfilled the days leading up to an important and difficult task or day, in order for me to be able to go through with them. To feel strong. Believe in and be proud of myself. It involves a certain diet (all though trying to ignore this particular one). Food consumed in a specific number (one for something dominating e.g. a wrap, three for smaller stuff like fruits or crisp breads and five for snacks like chips). Not drinking alcohol. Being active. Getting enough sleep. Cleaning the apartment, my closet. Grooming -feeling like the best version of my physical self I can be. Writing positive things with the tip of my thumb (because that feels skinny, as opposed to pressing my thumb flat writing) inside the palm of my hand.. Stuff like that. And I’d been dreading my wedding-day since the day he proposed and we decided to have a big wedding. Initially I wanted to have a small one outside on a vineyard in Italy. So I’d lined up dozens of triggering random scenarios to best protect myself. Things people might say or do, preparation not followed through, orders of events being mixed up, being surprised at some point. With these preparations and rules followed I thought I might even enjoy the day.
Cold- and hotflashes , skin burning, nausea, feeling let down by my family for not being there for me, feeling as ugly as I’ve never felt before I threw my family out from my hotel room. The last glass of champagne over giggly conversation in bed wearing robes was definitely out of the question. I hated everyone with all of my body and myself even more. Unable to stop crying, dehydrated and with water retention I knew I would be the ugliest bride the world had ever seen.
I felt bad for all my guests with the expectations of a happy beautiful bride. I wanted to apologize to them. Apologize for the fact that they had to look at me, ugly as I was, for the entire day. Apologize for the things I would call them in my head as they would approach me with nothing but good intentions. Apologize to my husband-to-be for thinking so badly about his wife. For not wanting to marry him.
I can’t think about this night without feeling the hopelessness I felt. Brief moments of sleep, waking up in a puddle of sweat, interrupted by screaming and repeatedly hitting myself where it hurt the most -my stomach and my head. Repeat. Trying desperately to hold back my tears as I knew my already puffy face would blow up even more around my eyes if I let them out. Gasping for air but never wanting to take a single breath ever again in my life.
I know what some of you may think. I’m superficial and stupid for feeling the way that I did. I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand why these trivial things ended up making me feel like killing myself. I only have the memories. And the knowledge that it was real at the time.
The morning was as expected. Tears and yelling to my mum and my sisters. I hate you. I’ve never hated them. I downed some scrambled eggs and left for the hair dresser. I immediately apologized as I sat down in the chair for looking as horrible as I did. I’m sorry bridesmaids for being such a disappointment.
Can we drink champagne in the salon?
Yes.
I avoided looking myself in the mirror as best I could throughout the day as it only resulted in that unbearable feeling in my chest that came out as tears. Mustn’t ruin my makeup. This thick layer of makeup that didn’t stand a chance of covering up what lay underneath. I remember visualizing tearing my face off.
I quickly managed to get myself up on a decent level of intoxication. Keep ’em coming. I don’t know why I even have bridesmaids, nothing makes sense anymore. But make yourself useful and keep the champagne coming. Dress on.
Emotional eyes meeting me, my tears of sadness quickly replaced by tears of anger towards all the people looking at me.
Standing on that podium felt like forever. Shaking looking past people. Looking past my husband. He knows at this point, he always knows. And I can feel he’s devastated for me.
More champagne. Trip to the toilet, mirror, tears, woman up, champagne. I hated everyone. I fucking hated everyone. Even now as I’m writing this I feel the hate, I’m still so angry. I hate myself. I’m right back at that moment, tears blurring my screen. My body seem to not being able to let go of that day, etched on my memory forever. The trauma of going against my emotions to the extent that I did that day.. I don’t think my body will ever forgive me for that, for doing that. I should have stayed home.
The rest of the day I remember as a screenplay unfolded behind thick fog. A haze of champagne. And rage.
I don’t remember this speech. But I know it was half embarrassing, half funny. That’s what I do when I’m uncomfortable. I make jokes. And drink. I think most people experience their wedding-day through a haze, not remembering their speeches and whatnot. But not because they’re drunk due to self-loathing. If that’s the case I feel very sorry for you.
My skills of ignoring my emotions and living for others was really tested, and I’m not even proud of it. It wasn’t worth it and the cost was way too big. I would never have gotten married to the man I love if it stood between that day over again or never.
I remember nothing after the cake. Vague flashbacks from a full-blown panic attack on the bus on the way home at three in the morning. The best man helping my breathe. Waking up the next day wanting to die.
Just finished, ran back to the hotel room to watch it.
Yes, I’m very cool.
Slightly different socks, but then again have you met a sock after it’s first wash still with it’s original partner?
I think not.
Btw, I refuse to believe that I’m the only one to give as little shit as I do about my hair that maintenance and up-keeping boils down to the All-In-One soap they so kindly provide for you in the showers at hotels when traveling.
You’ve done the same… you’re not better.
This one.
Cuffed to the wall, it’s so amazing.
I’m feeling euphoric after the show and very happy that it went so well. At least I feel that it went well. There’s always so much more one wants to say. But I didn’t choke. I didn’t boil to death. Actually, maybe my skincare-line is working for me? I didn’t panic. I felt some familiar tears welling up a little bit at one point, but that’s fine. I don’t mind crying, it’s not uncomfortable. Certainly not dangerous. Like blushing, that can cause severe damage. I’ve heard.. Or, felt. Crying is fine though! I love people who cry. Unless you’re as unfortunate to find yourself in an angry-cry situation. That’s horrible and I wish it only on my worst enemies. Which are none.
For now.
Out for lunch soon and enjoying the afternoon in Oslo before heading home. Well done, Viktoria. You did something good. At least me and my mum think I did something good. Pretty sure the other one too. And the little one. And the first one. And that’s all you need, really. The one’s in your life.
Doing an appearance on the morning show me and my sister did a couple of months ago tomorrow. In the hotel room now trying to go to sleep. I never think these things through ahead. There’s always something that I’m anxious about in my life. I started crying at the airport today over breakfast and fought a minor panic attack on the bus on the way to my friend for a glass of wine. For instance. If I was to think everything through ahead I’d never leave the apartment. There’s always a feeling in my stomach, chest, somewhere, that I have to brace myself. Life in general and the people in it will attack me. But I always try to ignore it. Don’t listen to it. I’m scared of blushing. Blacking out. Appearing stupid. Panicking -maybe I’ll have to get up and leave mid-interview (I know for a fact I’ll do some of those things tomorrow). So why start now? I feel so sick riding the bus on a bad day, so this.. At least people can sympathize. They can relate. Being on live television is scary. Riding the bus on the other hand, that separates you from a lot of people. Having coffee at a café, not everyone gets that that can feel like you’re feeling you’re dying.
Anyways. I have to get some sleep. I have some stuttering and blushing to do tomorrow and am very busy and important.
I’ve always had a thing for oversized clothes. I’ve always felt cool and edgy in loose fitted pants, large sweaters. I love the way fabric falls when it’s not too tight, sudden glimpses of body-shape as you move.. Some say a smile is your best accessory, not sure I agree on that all the time, but I do think that being comfortable in your body and outfit is key to being sexy. Even when I’m wearing fitted clothes I always make sure I can move, breathe and eat in it. Sucking in and pulling down skirts and tops is just never.. just, no.
And when I feel extra.. insecure about myself and my body, I’ll go really oversized. Total savior and I recommend everyone should have at least one outfit like that for dressing up or going out. Also perfect for those bloated days..
I got this (picked out and chose myself obviously) wrap dress for my birthday in january. In Large. It was already oversized, but when I go for it I love going All in when possible! Never fear size labels. Don’t even look at them. Fuck ’em. I have a dress in XL too as a matter of fact. Sizes also vary sooo much. It’s ridiculous how one M equals XS in a different brand. (There are measurements, you know)
These were taken from our honeymoon. I felt so uncomfortable that day. Like an elephant. But the relief of putting this on.. I felt good. Really, really good.
(Note the standard hotel wineglass. A water glass. Because why go through the trouble of asking for a proper one. What am I, royal?)
Except, you know, the shoes. Humidity and high heels just doesn’t work for me. I swear I gain ten sizes.
But sometimes you gotta woman up. Especially when you’re only riding the elevator to dine at the hotel restaurant and going straight to bed at eleven afterwards like a champ.
That glow though. Felt pretty that day. Amazing what fresh air, sun and swimming does to you.
I also love smudging my lipstick. Like you just made out with someone you shouldn’t have in a dark alley. I’ve never been very keen on being one of those women who has to check up on her lips after every bite she consumes. I’m too messy for that.
I don’t know about you, but it’s saturday and I’m going on a double date tonight. And I’m smudging my shit, loosening that belt, eating and sipping’ and laughing my heart out!
Just to show that, yes I lit a scented candle for myself in this almost mindfulness-worthy moment, I give you this picture.
Saying goodbye to the countryside today and this cheeky little world-marveling little one and going home to my long lost husband. Who’s been working away for the last two weeks. I didn’t abandon him.
It’s time to go. And it feels good. I need to get out of my shell and into the world. I thank my mum for letting me be a child again.
I sprained my ankle last saturday and have been very much in pain and agony since. It didn’t happen the way you’d think a graceful and professional athlete such as myself would sprain an ankle, it happened at three in the morning pushing my friend in a shopping cart wearing high heels. Needless to say my refined skill of keeping me self upright had left the building hours ago. Felt great.
So I’ve been limping, skipping, any form of degrading transportation really of the holy temple that is my body, around the whole week feeling sorry for myself. Luckily I love having physical pains as it perfectly fits my Struggling on the inside-profile. I feel good today though. I can almost walk without looking like a 90’s rapper, the blue shade has limited itself to only the outside of my foot and spirits are high. Only thing that really bothers me now is that I probably won’t be running in the nearest future.
Anyways! Balance is all about being able to not break when things challenge your normal outlets and joys for a period of time. If you’re in the process of health in the long run, breaks are only natural and necessary.
*scratches between eyebrows, leaves red mark for a week*
Oh! And my mum got me a new pancakefryingpan. That’s a word. Because I scrubbed away the top layer of my old one. It didn’t just burn. I gave it a chemical peel. So many rules for pots and pans nowadays. Like we didn’t have enough problems.
It made it’s big debut yesterday and it was fabulous.
So, HAPPY FRIDAY!! So much love, from me and hopefully from yourself, to you. May you feel as accomplished as I do regardless if you’re running up a hill or towards the pancakefryingpan. Hopefully you’re not working. Thats the worst and my heart goes out to you.
I’ve moved back to the country for the week. Seems I was only visiting our own place for the weekend and felt my stomach drop by the thought of staying. The other one’s headed out for work today and’ll be gone all week and I seem to start leaking any fucking moment left on my own. So it seemed like a good idea.
All of my family is home. Which is so rare for many families. Not ours. And it’s a blessing and a curse. We all get into each other’s business. We all postpone whatever’s weighing us down on the great Outside. We only want to spend time together. That’s why it’s so hard for us to be alone I think. We’re so used to us being there and we’re so dependent on each other. When we’re together we feel stronger and happier, than we actually are even! Not that I don’t think I’m my true self when I’m with them, but it sure is a different self who greets the world. A smaller self.
I know I’d struggle alone these days. And am always pulled towards destruction. When dealt with stuff through destructive ways for so long -that’s the only way I’ve achieved control amongst all this mess. Plus it’s so much easier. Being happy takes a lot more work during these periods. I feel I’ve been ignorant and greedy for too long. I also think my dosage’s too low.. I don’t think one’s supposed to feel like this. Maybe I’ve done that willingly.
Anyway, the others will be up soon and I don’t want to dwell here any longer. Slap on a smile, fix that leak, and face this beautiful rainy day.
As a full-grown human being I too suffer from bad conscience. I am not doing enough and what I am doing isn’t nearly good enough. Somehow we’ve made this into a female-thing, it isn’t. We just tend to talk about these things more. Like right now I’m supposed to be creative and passionate, but I’ve been staring at my toile (that’s a fabric sketch, a draft if you will, in the sewing world) for the last two hours trying to will it into becoming something ground-breakingly fabulous.
It isn’t.
On top of that I bought cheap honey, because they were out of the good stuff (no other reason), and I’m very serious about my honey as I am convinced it has healing powers and has an anti-inflammatory effect on life itself, and it really doesn’t taste the same. My breakfast was just not the same. And it’s not helping the situation. I feel like karma has struck again and the universe is telling me that at this very moment. I don’t deserve the good stuff.
I always believe I will be deserving when I’m working really hard on something. When I was at the end of my education for instance I thought to myself: When I finish this.. No one can say I’m no good. I will have proved to myself and everybody else that I’m a hard worker and that I am worthy of everything. (’cause it was a lot of work..!) When I’m done with this project, this collection, this garment, this obstacle.. I’ll KNOW, everyone will know that I’m confident in who I am and in my work.
I’m not. I’m never. I’m always terrified of the next move, whole world watching and ready to judge while I’m falling flat on my face. We’re never done, are we?
I’ve never met anyone who’s been done. Done proving their worth through accomplishments. Why is this ok? I get it, that we have to feel the lack of something to be able to push ourselves towards something more. If we were all content we wouldn’t move forward. Thing is though, I don’t personally feel the need to move forward. I’m not in any physical danger, at least not regularly. I feel relative comfort in life, I’m not scared of lacking anything -water, food, warmth, I’m able to get where I need to be when I need to, I have love and family, I am needed, I make a difference… I don’t need groundbreaking changes to feel happy in life, I really don’t. I admire those who do. The strivers. Always aiming higher. But I also think it’s ok to not be one of those persons. The stress and guilt that I’m experiencing, I believe, comes from others misjudging me for being lazy. Or stupid. Not contributing enough. Contentment being judged as a negative thing. And it’s really not. I think it’s seriously underrated.
A good movement is how social media is starting to rebel about this. Showing pictures of their cellulites #Goodenough. Food and drinks and vacations #You’reworthit! I do this myself in brief moments, mostly induced by cava surrounded by great people who dismiss all of my insecurities. But I am, and I know so many of the hashtaggers are as well, still not convinced when I’m left to myself. And they always do, these hashtaggers, come back with posts with texts on the subject of them too having doubts and feeling worthless sometimes.
I really feel that a lot of it comes down to the fact that we’re still shaming each other. People will always judge you from their own strong suits. And when that’s something you don’t excel at – then you’re worse than they are. If one person does crossfit five times a week, that person will judge someone of not making an effort or taking care of themselves if they’re only going for one 30 minute walk a week. Whilst that person may be completely happy with that! That person may save lives for a living. The crossfitter, who is she saving, huh??! Not even her own back!!
So, you know, measuring each other from our own stands makes no sense.
We should be allowed to be content with what we do do. Or, I mean, we are allowed. I just know I’m feeling like I’m constantly being reminded about the things I don’t do, I myself are comparing and am being being compared to what others are doing. She did this and she’s doing great, why don’t you..? What is your next goal? What are you doing now? I know what you did yesterday, but shouldn’t you focus on what’s tomorrow..?
So tiering. Anyway. I think I need to step away from my toile and go back to the drawing board.
Went for a run. Always makes me feel stronger when I’m feeling weak. And I need to feel strong. Because I believe, I know I am GREAT at a lot of things. And that I am doing really well! I may not be feeling it today, but hey, I went for a run and made fabulous pancakes afterwards. Killer pancakes actually since they broke my favorite frying pancakes pan.
I’m OK. And so are you. Cry your tears, but know that it’s ok to be wherever you are. You’re already good.
Sitting here eating a big slice of half-frozen cake from constitution day. I like frozen cake. Especially when it’s not fresh out of the oven. Obviously that’s the best.
Experienced some external triggers, or whatever you’d call it, lately. I don’t mean usual every-day challenges, like how people for instance, always trigger my social anxiety. Or food my eating disorder, that’s a given. But one of those core triggers. Not as much an action or physical happening, more of a feeling. Or a memory of a feeling. We all have that something in our past that might have pushed us into all of this to begin with. Into a certain direction. Something resulting in something negative, an insecurity becoming a big part of your life thus far, attempting to make up for it. Hide it. Maybe you’re still maintaining your wound, not ready to close it up. Maybe you don’t know how to, don’t know if you deserve to. Maybe it’s too sore to close. We’re all in a process and will be throughout our lives dealing with the big core issue(s) we were dealt early on. None of us without them.
I haven’t felt like this in quite some time. My previous psychologist wanted to tap into it a couple of times, but it’s always easier to talk about the consequences. The everyday struggles. It all seems so simplified when going back to the roots. I’ve made it all so much more complicated along the way..
I know it didn’t all start for me with this trigger, I believe a lot of it was latent in me (to me?), and that I showed GREAT potential, alone, from the very start!
…
But it might have been that last straw.. I know many of my issues started earlier. But I know this particular trigger didn’t help. And ended up, at the very least, being the Star of the maintenance team. I know it made it impossible to stop.
So it’s very interesting to tap into these emotions again. To remember a time when it could’ve turned out different. If someone would’ve noticed. If I’d removed myself from my environment and habits earlier. I can feel my destructive ways, who’s been such lovely friends (..) in need before, calling. I won’t go there though, the need to be above that shit is so strong at this point. The need to be strong. Done fading away. A casualty. Physically weak and defeated.
I feel sad, though. I feel different. And overall tired and vulnerable. Very sad. Not angry. There is also a sense of calm in there, too. I’m reminded of my younger self and when everything was at it’s most difficult. Feels like some sort of past threshold. I feel a genuine curiosity and am forced to ask myself how did that become this? How has it come this far and this dominating in my life?
I actually don’t wanna run from this. Not gonna confront it too much either. Let’s see if I can deal with it this time. If not it’s two options. Me getting worse, or me removing myself from my trigger. I know which one. And I really do feel the need to and relevance in concentrating on taking care of myself. Even though my heart is telling me to punish.
Never ending story, this. Broken record. One Krone for every time I’ve written the phrases “I’m tired”, or “I need to take care of myself”.. I would at least be able to afford that dress that I want.. So sorry to repeat that again. But I really am tired. And it feels very good to write it to you.
I’ve been longing for this morning. This morning to myself. After a long time of waking up and starting the day straight away. Hotel breakfasts, waterfront runs, packing of backpacks and heading out to the beach or out to pretend I care about steps that are Spanish.
A moment alone.
I can’t stand birds. I hate the way they sound. Crows and seagulls.. Have you noticed that if you have one outside your window, you can’t focus on anything. Nothing. Sleep. Write, read or watch. Simply unbearable. Not to mention the seagulls just after having babies. Attacking everyone crossing their paths. Crossing roads, now..! They have the roads, now..!?!! Now every time I see a little leaf or object crossing the road I fucking run the opposite direction causing huge delays and repercussions in my usually Oh, so uncomplicated life.
…?
Anyway. In our neighborhood there are three. Seagull.. families or whatever. Can’t walk anywhere. Can’t run. Fucking hate birds. But on this particular morning it feels good not to run. Even though I kinda want to, because I normally feel better afterwards, getting some hatred out. Release some of dem good hormones. But sometimes you just have to be in it. To evolve, you know. I’m not going to run today. I’m gonna have this morning to myself while the other one’s asleep. Blame the seagulls for the inconvenience resulting in me not being able to run. It’s nice sometimes not to have to decide for yourself when you don’t know what you want. So here I sit. Condemning the feeling my gut is giving me after having breakfast and coffee. It tasted good. Feels horrible. Focusing on trusting my body to take care of this, this content and this feeling. Because I’m not running away from it in my thoughts or otherwise today. No cheer pep in my step rushing the other one to get the most out of the day.. I’m just sitting here feeling it.
Other one’s up now. I can hear him in the bathroom, peeing. I envy him. Wish I could pee that much. Make all the volume in my stomach go away. If I can’t run from it, it could at least do me the favor and leave me for once. Don’t seagulls throw up their food into their babies mouths?
I hate seagulls.
I get a moment of pleasure to hear him making himself fried eggs. He eats that every morning. Two fried eggs on toast. Lots of butter. We share that. Love of butter. But sometimes he waits, an hour, two -three..! And I envy him, hate him a little, because I’m never allowed to wait that long to have breakfast.
I’m happy today though. Tired but happy. Calm. Happy with the decision the seagulls made for me. To sit tight. I’m gonna prepare a fantastic dinner tonight. That’s for sure.
My husband, bless him, bought me this Victoria Beckham suit right before we left on our honeymoon. And I’m so proud of it. Never scared of using it though! One shouldn’t be. It’s only fabric put together in a certain, sometimes brilliant, way.
They only feel loved when used.
I think he wanted me to have it because he knows I never agree to go shopping when I’m traveling. Feels unnecessary to me. You’re already in a new country with new food, new smells, languages, customes, cultures and people -why spend your time and money on buying stuff you can buy anywhere? I’ll rather save those money for a day I really need or want something. Use my money on local tastes and sights instead.
Didn’t know I needed this suit, though..
This was our nicest stay by far. A vineyard in Cortona, Tuscany. Il Falconiere. With about 15 rooms or so situated in different small houses.
This. View from our room.
A little stroll amongst the grape trees to get to the restaurant / reception area.
Lazy afternoons by the pool. Our room in the closest buildings.
Ass looking perkier than my face. haha.
There it is.
The pool where they had this phone
I felt like they knew me.
The very essence of me.
This was considered room-service. The guy, poor guy, came sweating up the stairs (not to mention the stroll amongst the grape trees) carrying the damn table to our porch! Set the table and left after bidding us a good night. I sat there like an idiot in my robe, hair dripping from the shower. A little shameful, must admit. Felt filthy rich though.
Had to see the city of Cortona, located not far from the vineyard on the top of a.. mountain? hill? hillock? I don’t know. It was a mighty height (hand gesture in air with fist) in the otherwise flat land.
I just love these! Laundry hanging from everywhere.
Even more so, the DOORS. Swear, every single door in Cortona was beautiful.
The hotel (which we paid one third of the price for, otherwise ridiculous prizing) also had a Michelin restaurant. Of course. Which we’d read previous of arriving was unworthy of the star. It was. The chef was a real bitch, food was ok, it was good..! But if you’re a foodie; not impressing at all. Lack of passion in everyone presenting the different courses too. Which is one of my favorite things about fine dining. It’s an art, sell it to me! Love it, live it! Hearing them talk about the delicious complex dishes, beautifully presented -with great passion! They barely told us the main ingredient. And it rarely had perfect balance.
So that was disappointing. Still worth it. I know, I’m a snob. But food is big in my world. It’s my hobby. An expensive one, so it better be good.
So that’s Cortona! Really beautiful, but three nights was definitely enough if you’re restless like we are.
I asked my husband if he thought I was enjoying life a little too much. Our honeymoon in Italy was two weeks of total and utter heaven on earth. I’ll tell you all about that later. But now I’ve gone and rewarded myself further more by going to Oslo to see my friend. And live like a princess in my uncle and aunts apartment.
I’m being too kind to myself. Rulebook’s out the window and the shit’s hit the fan.
Here to illustrate is a picture of both.
And I’m hushing up that voice that wants to get his airtime. To punish me and restore order in my life. I’ve been flying too high for too long and need to get back down again.
I get that you’re thinking that you can’t be on holiday, in the clouds forever. I know. And it’s really sad. (Exception being you becoming a surfing instructor and moving to Bali permanently). But I’m not talking about that. You can be happy and work at the same time, you don’t need champagne and pools to be happy, obviously. Makes it a bit easier, but.. you know. I’m talking about the reward-system. I’ve lived on a reward-system for as long as I can remember, I don’t know if I’m able not to. We learn that we need to work hard to be able to earn and deserve the things that we want. And we do work for those reasons! Most of us. The rest of you need to get up off your asses and do something. Wash your car. I don’t care.
But, in all seriousness, we’re not meant to punish ourselves for being kind to ourselves and allowing ourselves to receive the good things in life. I heard someone, someone older (you know how they feel like they can tell you all kinds of shit because they’ve lived longer than you, lived through World War II and know everything), say that we’re not here to be happy. So stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re here to work. Bring new life to this world. Work hard, follow the rules, then life will be ok. Good, even. You’re not here for a reason. Just to.. what, get through it? Not here to find ourselves, our purpose and be special..?
I don’t feel that way. We obviously need to work, but the point is to be happy and make the absolute most of it. We deserve that.
I also know that we are just specks of dust. Present for an extremely short amount of time. Most of us won’t have a long-term impact on the planet. And those who do most likely don’t hate whatever it is that they were doing. They had to do it. They were born to do it. Their purpose was already written and within, and they wanted to do it. But most of us aren’t really all that important. To time and space, universe and humanity. Time and space don’t depend on you, therefore don’t care how you lead your life. If you followed whatever series of “rules” we made up. If you allowed yourselves to be happy or not. Only gave or only took. You’re not that big a deal.
So I, again and again, have to remind myself that no one cares if I’ve earned to be happy. More importantly, I shouldn’t. Be selfish! I’m so tired of obsessing over measuring myself and my life to allow myself to receive good things. W’e’re worth good things. And I’m really trying to fight, maybe I’ll wrestle like the gorgeous ladies of wrestling.., that voice in my head right now that’s telling me to make up for the damages I’ve done to my mind and body by being too happy lately. -The peace in my mind that means I’ve been enjoying far too long. Telling me I don’t deserve stuff before I’ve been really “good”, in pain. The not planning of, not making the puzzle and the mathematic pieces on how good and how bad I’ve been. The extra work not being done. The pile of laundry left. The pizzas consumed. The red wine with it. I actually freak out about the lack of alone-time because among all these people that I love , maybe I just can’t hear myself think. How am I really feeling about myself? How big is the damage? How much am I gonna hate myself when left on my own after this?
I don’t want to deal with this right now. Because I truly believe that we are here to be happy. Life is actually a gift. We are just here to live until you die. How and when and where is up to you. You can actually do anything with your life, you have that power. Just try to be happy. People can judge, let them. Everything else comes second. I tell my friends this! I always have. I need to tell myself this and really mean it. I know hanging out with my friends feels good. They don’t judge me like I judge myself. They can be my inner voice for a little longer. I’ll deal with The Voice a little later.
You.
Luckily my husband is only two days away when I get back home. Those two days I’ll work hard. I swear. But I will eat more pizza too. I swear.
Had an amazing trip to Oslo with the two second biggest loves of my lives. Did the Norwegian morning show (which I absolutely love and adore. God, I’m famous..) God Morgen Norge. HUGE milestone for me and very humbling. Especially me and the first one, because we don’t do much really. Other than what we can do and are educated to do, to soften the extreme world the little one has entered. She doesn’t really need us, but I think we make her life a little less scary. And a little bit more of a viking warrior queen on a quest to save the souls of those looking to be saved !
Wow, I really hope you read that in the sarcastic way I’m doing in my head. Feel free to add a cliché hand gesture to go with it.
Also did another interview after the morning show. Which I wasn’t mentally prepared for, so I took it out on the guy doing the interview. He was really sweet and not to be blamed. I’m lucky just to be interviewed, you know?? Viktoria??!
He forgave me though. This thunder of a woman.
Obviously talked about my favorite subjects. IN the world. Anxiety and mental health issues. And my sisters.
Even as I’m speaking about anxiety I rarely allow myself to accept my anxiety.. You know what I mean? As I’m talking about not fearing it I’m battling a storm on my inside to hide the fact that it’s happening right now..? How strange.
But this was actually a bit different. Maybe the morning show warmed me up. But no fucks were given after that. I was just myself and actually felt calm during this interview.. Maybe because I actually said what I meant. I don’t know, but I was relaxed.
Dis made me happy.
Oh, and I broke my phone and we missed our flight back home.
But that’s a different story.
Now I’m about to start packing for ITALY!!!! Leaving on Saturday, got my shit waxed today and feel ready for everything that comes my way! I’m so very much in love and love my life. I feel lucky. And I don’t believe in luck. So that’s lucky.
My husband told me a couple of days ago while we were out running together (yes, we’ve become that couple..) when I started hyperventilating and felt the panic and tears summoning its forces, initiating a full blown war in my throat, that I’ve been told so many of the wrong things over the years. Naturally when this panic strikes, all though not as often as earlier in my life, I tend to blame myself and react with sadness and frustration -embarrassment even. Embarrassment over the fact that I still am not able to control these situations. The fact that I’m still in these situations. Up until now running has been one of myfree-zones, and NO way I’m gonna let it take over it. That I can control. That was also one of the things I’ve been told. Not that I see the therapeutic value in it. Either you get rid of it by exposing yourself to the “danger”, confirming that it isn’t as scary as you built it up to be in your head. Or you just confirm what you already know in your body and minds memory, you will panic. And you must fight or flight.
Because I’ve been going to different psychiatrists and practiced several methods to cope with this shit I’m still every day faced with the fact that I might never be cured. I can always panic. Which everybody can, obviously. But everyone isn’t scared of it all the time. I am so tired. I even, still, have a hard time sometimes defining it as a panic attack whilst in the midst of one. Which is also one of the things I’ve learnt one should do..? (Great, you’re able to define the situation. Now what?) I believe I struggle identifying it because I’ve already put it in the box marked “the past” and can’t be bothered to deal with it any longer to be honest.
There are a lot of great therapists out there. There are a lot of average therapists. There are a lot of therapists that are great on some issues. There are a lot of bad therapists out there too. As there are teachers, painters, doctors, parents, people.. Then there’s the chemistry factor. Let’s not forget how big of a part this plays in a relationship. We some times just don’t get what some people want. We just don’t get how some people think or need. We talk different languages sometimes. Both literally and emotionally. Sometimes no one is to be blamed.. Other times people are just plain shitty. Failing as human beings coexisting with other human beings. But we tend to forget about this and look inwards at what we could have possibly done wrong..! What didn’t I understand? Why did I fail? How can I change?
It’s not you. It’s not me. Maybe I’ve just never met one who gets me.
We sometimes just don’t click with the other person. She rubs you the wrong way. It can be as little as his shoes.. Because how can one trust someone with down right ugly shoes? That’s what it’s been like for me for many years. I’ve been taught so many wrong things about myself and why I’ve struggled in life (just,, life, in general), that some ‘answers’ have actually worsened my condition. Like my anxiety and panic attacks, for instance. I have learnt absolutely nothing that works. Yet I’ve been taught a lot of different shit. Some of it real SHIT, actually! One of them even managed to question my very experiences of having panic attacks – question my whole anxiety!!! Probably based on that stupid form they fill out, when they tick off to eliminate OCD and all sorts of conditions, when I didn’t check off as regularly fainting and experiencing diarrhea after every incident. Which, again, makes me feel like a real loser (because I can’t even identify it as NOT me, but an anxiety disorder) in life when I still can’t handle myself in a respectable and healthy manner in different situations loosing my shit. Normal. As in not having had your life and whole identity turn 180 on you and now force you to go trough life seeing the world as a hostile place rather than safe.
Normal.
As I must be. Since I don’t shit myself every time I panic.
Maybe we’re all like this. Maybe we all have life-altering and at times crippling anxiety. But I know many people haven’t. I’ve asked. Several times. To ensure myself that I’m not weak. There is something inside my head that does make life a bit more harder.
I don’t know what my conclusion should be here. I just know that it felt really good hearing from someone who knows me the best, that this isn’t my fault. Felt really good. And that it made me believe even more (because I won’t stand for it and will settle for nothing in life) that there is something, someone, that’ll make it better.
That might be the conclusion, actually; Maybe it isn’t all on you?
