Give yourself good things. Why is it that you so readily chat shit to yourself, about yourself? You run on empty. You expect so much and give little in return. When did you decide you are undeserving? Who decided that? Why does the very act of nourishing yourself, of caring for yourself, seem indulgent rather than standard. Sissy. Dramatic. Needy. Demanding. When did you figure out that you are not worthy of basic comfort? Of basic care? And when will you change?
You know it’s only you who can, right? You can read all the quotes and every last book, you can have all the conversations but only you can make a choice about how you treat you. How you treat yourself. Not just a takeaway, a new moisturiser or a pair of shoes for a job well done – when will you make a choice to hold yourself every day. Without expectation or condition. Just to love yourself for being. To love yourself when you have spots! To take your face kindly in your hands and accept your imperfections, your glorious humanness.
Can you look at yourself naked? At that body that carries you every single day. The one you starve and stuff depending on your mood. Undereating or overindulging. Pushing, pulling, squeezing. When will you see this body as your home and not a vessel? When will you recognise that the touch you crave is something you can give yourself? You can hold yourself in a loving embrace, you can gently guide and comfort your body like you might another human. You can look upon your flesh with soft eyes and wonder, without harsh judgements.
When will you allow yourself to be seen without a filter? To know that your worth doesn’t lie in likes. To understand deeply that you are seen and held and watched even when you don’t have your face on. Will it take much longer for you to accept that you will not disappear if you do not appear online. You are not for consumption. You are not a bowl of chips to be salivated over, compared with other chips consumed weeks, months, years ago… never. You are whole. Babe, you’re a potato, with those eyes and sprouts and imperfections. You are endless possibility. You are whatever you want to be. You are limitless and loveable and fucking amazing… especially with butter.
Joyrider by Angela Scanlon will be published 12/05/22.