Why 27 is the age at which I finally start not giving a shit.

Let’s rewind to 2011. I’m on Tumblr, of course I am, reblogging to my heart’s content, doing those mysterious “Read more” posts and marvelling at beautiful people with much more followers than myself. I’ve built up a somewhat okay-ish amount of followers and enjoy this first dabble into the world of blogging. However, no one knows about it. No one I know in real life, anyway. One day, I open my “Ask” box and see an anonymous question which only someone I know in real life could have written. There is information in there which no one could’ve known if they didn’t know me in real life, plus it’s in German whereas I blog in English and exclusively follow English speaking blogs.

My reaction? I deleted the entire thing and never came back.

 

They say with age comes a sense of calm, of feeling more secure in yourself and a growing confidence. Whilst in a lot of ways, I do agree with this, I still have a long way to go. But as much as I want to take my time with a lot of things – marriage and children? Not any time soon, thank you -, the one thing I don’t want to take my time with is growing in confidence and developing a greater sense of self-worth.

What annoys me the most is that I know where a lot of this is coming from. I have wanted to write about it for a good while but I don’t know where to start. It’s a tricky topic and I want it to be done properly and in a soft yet honest approach: Emotional abuse. I came out of an emotionally abusive relationship just over two years ago and whilst I will admit that confidence has always been an issue for me, this relationship completely destroyed me. Me as a person, my confidence, my self-worth. I had nothing left. It took nine months of therapy to not only realise this but also to build any sense of self-esteem back up.

I feel like I wasted a good chunk of my life recently, not only in that relationship but also in my entire time of being in the UK, I feel like I haven’t made the most of it. Partly because my circumstances didn’t let me. I worked as an Executive Assistant in a high-end company, how much, do you reckon, would they have appreciated experimental makeup, hair colours and style? In fact, one time I was given money to go shopping for a different wardrobe because they didn’t like the way I dressed. Funny, huh?

I remember being baffled when they got something totally wrong about me and how little they paid attention to the person behind the title of Executive Assistant, and equally I remember the looks on their faces when I came into work with pastel pink hair one Monday morning in March. I think I’d stopped caring already at that point but it wasn’t until May that I left the chains behind and broke free.

But breaking free and being free are two completely different things and whilst I might have escaped the shackles of a job I had nothing in common with, I never broke free from the feeling of being tied up, held back and put down. Every once in a while, I catch a glimpse of the person I am; a glimpse of the glimmer that is still there, buried underneath a mountain of self-consciousness, self-doubt and the feeling of not being good enough.

I’ve always been a bit of a worrier and I tend to play things safe, a lot safer than I should or need to, probably, and whilst I don’t think I can make this go away entirely – and quite frankly, I don’t want to – I think it’s time to loosen up a little bit. To push away that mountain of dirt from my re-growing self and maybe, just for the time being, almost do a 180 and live. Because right now, I’m alive but I’m not living and I feel like I’m running at high risk of eventually ending my life on “What if” rather than “Oh well”.

So at 27, I’m not going to give a shit. I am going to wear as much makeup as I like, whenever I like (smokey eye to go to the GP? Don’t mind if I do), I am going to wear whatever I feel like wearing (Ghost bodysuit with spiderweb leggings? Alright then) and I’m going to listen to Michael Buble’s Christmas album from now on because I am bloody excited for the most wonderful time of the year.

’til next time x

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