Do whatever you want just don't hurt anyone

Towards the end of last year I made a brave decision; I spoke to HR about how unhappy someone was making me at work. I was unhappy for a long time, and it took quite a few months of hesitation until I finally genuinely wanted to share what I had been going through. One of the things that upset me most about this person, was how much their behaviour had impacted on me and how little [if at all] they cared about it themselves. It would go through waves; every few months I'd get so upset that I'd feel like I couldn't take it anymore, and then something nice would happen and I'd think 'oh, well, I guess that was the worst of it' or tell myself it won't be so bad after that, but then a few months later something shitty would just happen again. When someone treats you like shit consistently, and you accept the way you're treated, it can normalise the most inappropriate and shocking behaviour. I learned the hard way, because it took me two years [and then some] of accepting someone's hurtful behaviour all because I was scared of the outcome.  I was scared I'd speak up and nothing would change, or worse, that I'd speak up and nothing would change and they'd find out it was me and I'd somehow be punished in future for it.

Mistakenly, I felt vulnerable and in too junior a position to speak up and have anyone listen. I confided in a few people about this while it was happening, but it took one particularly persistent and kind senior member of staff to eventually break down the fears I had, and to rationalise my options- the practical Virgo in me decided it was far better to make an 'informed decision' as to my options than not. Maybe it was because I would have preferred to leave my job than speak up, that made that person realise this was more serious than a simple complaint about clashing personalities. But I'm so glad they persevered with me and I'm so glad I spoke up, because even though I'm no longer in my old job [so not directly benefitting from the consequences of my decision] there are a few people still working there that are that bit happier because of what I did.

It strengthened my morals as well- I truly believe you can do whatever the hell you want in your life, as long as you don't hurt other people. I don't care if I don't agree with it or if I don't understand it, as long as you're genuinely not hurting anyone by doing it. And while it's a slow process, I'm also trying to be as conscious of my own actions, words and behaviour to others as I would wish them to be towards me. I only wish I'd spoken up sooner about what I was going through, but I'll take that lesson with me to the next problem :) 

The Tee - O Mighty

Yellow

This post was going to be about how I was recently rejected by someone, which hurt obviously, but it was also going to be about how, a month later, I was more or less doing much better and feeling good in every possible way. I wanted to present a version of me in this post that translated, visually [in this frankly sizzling yellow dress], and literally in the accompanying words, as 'I'm out the other side and I feel awesome!". 

Until earlier today when I started crying halfway through reading about Article 8 of the European Convention on Human Rights [lol law conversion course sux], not because I was sad about that guy, but because I realised something about why I'd been so sad about that guy. Random realisations that knock you sideways, about how you behave,  what you expect from another person in a romantic [and platonic] relationship and the disconnect to what was actually happening in reality. And it made me think about guys I've liked in the past, guys that ended it with me [badly, mostly] and times I ended it with a guy [less frequent, hopefully less badly] and about their behaviour- what I accepted and didn't, what I thought I deserved and didn't, and a whole lot of shit about my projections and really high expectations, coupled with just enough low self-esteem with the wrong kinda guy for none of the latter to matter and to be taken advantage of anyway. There's so much there, and today I felt like the purpose of this 'i'm good now guys!' blog post seemed naively redundant.

But it's really never actually about presenting the finished product. It sounds like the most over-used cliche to convey, but taking the time to learn from the not-so-good bits is so important that I can't and shouldn't have put a time-stamp or expiry date on when I'd get there. And it's not about locking yourself in a room for a week and working through it because we don't work like that- it happens randomly when you're having dinner or out with friends, and you have to let it hit so that realisation is felt, understood and actually becomes a learning. That's not to say I'm not the 'I feel great about most things in my life thanks for asking!!' person also, but what I'd sort of been doing alongside 'unpacking' things is a fair amount of repression, putting barriers up, and generally bad but familiar behaviour- which I am still doing, because it's really fucking hard not to.

I wanted this post to be way more 'hopeful', where I had learnt one key lesson from getting over someone and 'what worked for me!', but having feelings really doesn't work like that. My heart isn't broken. But I cried a lot. But I genuinely believed it was for the best a couple days after. But I still get sad. 

I suppose there's one lesson- or perhaps a new temporary rule: I'm on a self-inflicted boy ban until my degree is over, aka try not to date a guy for the next 5 months. New potential side-rule: let a dude prove his worth [and vice versa] by getting to know each other without the dating bullshit [and all the heavy attachment feelings and romantic ideals that go with it]? Watch this space...

Dress - Topshop

Necklaces - Shop Lune 

Look at me now

Body dysmorphia. That's what it was. Though I didn't know it at the time. Back then, when I was 10, 11, 12, all I did was notice that I didn't have the naturally straight or easily wavy hair my friends did, that I had hideously hairy legs, and that I was, by my own standards when looking at others, Ugly. I was the ugliest person I knew.

I hated myself. And no, I don't mean "I really hate how my eyeliner flicks today" (true say somedays the flick rules the eye). I hated myself. I don't type this without knowing and remembering exactly what that meant, believe me. 12 year-olds aren't supposed to hate themselves like that. They're not supposed to feel that way about themselves, punching their stomach because it seemingly protruded, preferring to feel pain because it made them feel better that they weren't as pretty as everyone else, storing secret chocolate bars under the bed to eat when no one was around. But I did feel that way, so very painfully much. And the inevitable over-eating would only make things worse, like a horrible spiral- comfort eat for the short-term high, self-loathing for the long-term low, round and round like a sickening ferris wheel.

But luckily for me it was very much like a ferris wheel. Because I jumped off. In year 11 the girls in my year awarded me the title of 'most changed since year 7'. At the time, it was a purely superficial award (I discovered eyeliner by way of Myspace circa 14 + owned a pair of ghd's) but looking back, I'll still take that 'ugly duckling becomes beautiful swan' evaluation. Because, well. I'm more confident today than my 12 year-old self ever dreamed of, and I'm nowhere near done yet. I've accomplished things that, aged 12, I couldn't have fathomed possible- from big stuff like being in magazine photoshoots, starting a fashion blog, landing my dream job at Amnesty International and, most clearly, to the very simple act of waking up in the morning, looking in the mirror, and liking what I see. My confidence hasn't grown just because of the privilege afforded to me for being seen as 'pretty' by society, but by the real things I've achieved, the risks I've taken, and the amount of times I've said 'YES' to an opportunity (which has grown in frequency in direct correlation to my confidence, fact).

I've had conversations where people assume that because I'm 'a pretty girl' that means I've 'had it easy'. And I get that, because I know that physically I'm more aligned to beauty ideals these days than when I was 12 (and my catflick is usually on point). But liking yourself takes more than the surface-level thumbs up. And I'm still working on it- things you might think are insignificant like going to work without eyeliner. These are my baby steps now. But if I've learnt anything, it's never to judge anyone else's baby steps, but look at everyone the way I wish my peers and teachers looked at me when I was 12: with warmth, openness and love. 

Photo by Chris Jarvis :)