Emotional Baggage

Ahna Thong by Honeydew in Black.JPG

(Wearing: Honeydew Intimates Ahna Thong)

Rejoining the commuter life has forced me to find forms of entertainment while squeezing into a train like a sardine for lengthy amounts of time (aka the claustrophobics' worst nightmare). For a hot second, it was reading books. Anything related to business, self-help, or historical figures had me locked in tight. I just love the feeling of learning something new first thing in the morning. But after a few deathly stares for taking up too much valuable space, getting on the wrong train, and even leaving a project or two behind called for a new way to be entertained.

I guess there was no excuse now against binging on The Skinny Confidential: Him & Her Podcast. Seeing I've fallen way far behind. But these episodes are literally the perfect length for my commute from the moment I step outside my apartment to the time I arrive at school. Literally, perfect timing. Yesterday, I finally reached Episode 121: Interview with Melissa Wood Health pt II. Now, if you're not familiar with Melissa, she is a boss of all trades. She combines wellness and fitness into a plant-based lifestyle. Her journey wasn't always easy. In the interview, she touches upon her hardships which truly hit home for me.

It's also inspired me to come out of the wood-works and admit "I AM NOT OKAY." But hey, it's okay that I'm not okay.

*LONG PAUSE*

So, where do I even begin?

Well, I guess I can start off by saying that it's really fucking difficult to discuss emotions. And it's inevitable that life will hand you emotional baggage along this journey. Some people are given bigger bags than others. Some bags are about to burst at the seams. And some people just have their shit revolving the conveyer belt. Right now, mine is half packed neatly in a monogrammed LV duffle. While the other half is spewing in circles as I try to pick up the pieces one at a time. It's exhausting.

Even worse, I can't sleep. This is the third night in a row I’ve woken up profusely sweating and filled with panic. As if my heart is going to jump out of my chest doing the cha-cha-slide. I wake up to check the stove and make sure I didn’t leave it on from three days ago. Or log onto my computer convinced I missed a deadline even though I am more than caught up on all of my projects.

So, where is this cripple anxiety coming from?

As I said earlier, I love a good self-help book. I'm all about self-development and exploring new ways to grow. Because I am determined, to not always be, the asshole that I am. Anyways. There is a common theme that floats around these books. Gratitude. Being able to list at least three things that you're thankful for.

My health (though I might be "dying from the plague" aka being allergic to London), I'm healthy and alive.

Having the opportunity to study Lingerie Design at the London College of Fashion

Living in a fabulous apartment here in London

Overall, I have this amazing opportunity to go out and chase my dream.

But somehow I’ve decided somewhere in my mind that I don’t deserve this opportunity. That somehow in the millions and millions of people, I’m the only person alive that doesn’t deserve to chase their dreams. Suddenly, I've stopped looking at myself through my own lense, but through the eyes of others opinions. And quite frankly it’s both pathetic and sad at the same time. Most of all, dangerous.

HOW FUCKED IS THAT?!

I think I have to be honest here and admit I haven't properly (keyword here) dealt with the emotional shitshow I've encountered this year. Like, getting dumped on my birthday. Having to walk away from friendships that were no longer fulfilling. And massive amounts of family drama. I think there was a part of me that swept everything under the rug because I didn't want to face the facts. So, I kept pretending I was okay.

And let me remind you, sweeping that shit into a corner and not dealing with the mess will only hide the mess until its found. Weird analogy, but you get my point here. Let me tell ya, it will show up when you least want it to. Because that's life for ya.

How about that for word vomit?

Ahna Thong by Honeydew in Black.JPG

The point I am making here, is I am coming clean with my shit. And I am ready to heal. Ready to deal with it and put it behind me. So, I've decided that I'm going to stop the 'Date Night' theme and pick up where we left off in the New Year. I feel like right now the advice and information I am sharing is half-assed. It would be like me trying to pour you a glass of champagne when the bottle is empty. Nothing is going to come out. Instead, I want to take you guys along my new adventure of learning to love myself, again. And kind of doing that through lingerie.

I'm trying to remember that one quote every female had in their AOL Instant Messanger profile after a breakup "sometimes good things need to fall apart, so better things can fall together." Because if I don't believe it, I'm just going to sit here and sulk like a baby. And who the fuck wants to deal with that?

There you have it, my emotional shitshow. But get ready for a whole new semi-put-together, moi.

Girl TalkMelissa Cherniss