All that I am, all that I ever was…

I am more than my mental health. I am more than my homelessness. I am more than any one aspect of me. I am Addy. And this is…


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30 Day Self Harm Awareness Challenge: Day 18

Today’s prompt in the 30 Day Self Harm Awareness Challenge asks
Write a letter to the future (recovered) you.

writing_a_letter

Dear Older Addy,

I’ve never been very good at writing to you. I can write to you from the past, as you’ll only be too aware from the time bending letters you’ve received throughout your life, but I’ve never been very good at writing to you from the future, mainly because I don’t know who I’ll be writing to. Will I be writing to you who found a beautiful, kinky woman to settle down in a happy, loving relationship with? Or will I be writing to you who was consumed by his mental illnesses and lives in self-imposed hermitage? For the sake of this letter I’ve decided to opt for the former. I’m choosing to believe that you were able to overcome your mental illnesses. I’m choosing to believe that you met a wonderful woman who loves you for you are, kinks and all. I’m choosing to believe that you are the father to Amelia and Alexander, two mischievous children who keep both you and your beautiful wife on your toes. I’m choosing to believe that you are happy. That you succeeded in your recovery and have been self harm free for [insert appropriate number of years here].

The reason I have chosen to believe your future is a happy one is because I need something to cling onto. I need to believe there is hope. As you’ll only be too aware my life has been a calamity of catastrophes from the word go. All the chaos that I’ve had to deal with; bipolar, social anxiety, depressive episodes, suicidal ideation, self harm, have left me devoid of hope. Once upon a time I did believe that things would be better for me. That I wouldn’t be as alone, as isolated, as consumed as I currently am. But that was before the great depression of 2014-2015. That was before the darkness gripped my soul and rendered me unable to glimpse any light that may be out there.

I’m sure you’ll remember the great depression I’m currently locked into. The depression that took control of your mind and forced you to endure the most boring, monotonous daily routine that you’ve ever experienced. Days upon weeks upon months of doing nothing but the same, constantly fighting the urge to self harm by lighting up another cigarette, another cancer stick, that will surely come back to bite you in the future. Does it? No, don’t answer that. I know it will. I’m not an idiot. I know my actions will have some bearing on my future, but if I know, if I’m told what will happen, I will further lose the ability to hold onto hope.

And that’s what I need at the moment. Hope. I’ve written about it lately. How I’ve lost my hope. How I don’t believe there is a better future for me. How everything has become too much that even the victories seem pointless. Eight months of being self harm free and I feel nothing but nonchalant. I don’t see it as a positive. I don’t see it as anything other than an empty gesture. I’m resigned to the fact that at some point in the future I will cave, and I will return to my self-harming ways. That’s what I need from you, my fatherly friend, I need you to tell me how you managed to overcome your demons. How you managed to navigate the great depression and become the happy, fun-loving, recovered human being I’ve chosen to believe you’ve become. I need you to give me hope. I need you to give me strength. Because I’m fast running out of it. With every day that passes I lose a little more of it. With every day that passes I become weaker. More inclined to ‘give up’ and stop fighting what I believe to be inevitable.

I don’t know. Maybe I’m asking too much. Maybe I’m being too demanding. You have kids to look after. A wife to keep happy. A life to live. You don’t have time to help out a hopeless soul who has forsaken the belief his life will ever be better than this. But maybe if I ask kindly enough, if I appeal to your empathetic nature, you will find it within your heart to take pity on me. To gift me with the knowledge that I need to rekindle hope in my soul.

Perhaps you could tell me the story of how you met your wife. I’m sure there will be a story. Knowing you it’s not likely to be a simple ‘we bumped into each other in the supermarket’ tale. I’m sure there will be drama and destiny and odd little moments of cherished beauty. Perhaps you could tell me what it felt like to hold Amelia for the first time. I’m sure that was quite something. Knowing you, as you stared into the beautiful eyes of your first-born daughter, you cried. And happily so. Perhaps you could tell me how you succeeded in overcoming your self harm urges. I’m sure that was a lot of work. Knowing you, it required a great deal of determination, inner strength and help from kind, caring souls. Perhaps you could just regale me with tales of your life; your exploits, experiences and endeavors. What do you do now? Are you an inspirational speaker? An author? A filmmaker? Or are you still disabled, struggling to get by from paycheck to paycheck, strengthened only by the love you hold for your gorgeous family?

Just knowing some of these stories, just having something to hold onto, would help my current malaise. It’s not enough to choose to believe you are a husband, a father, a friend. I need to know that you are all of these things. I need to know that my future holds something beyond the dark abyss that you are currently lost to.

So please. If you can. Take a moment to send me a letter. Take a moment to regale me with stories of your life. Take a moment to show a hopeless person that there is hope, that there is something to believe in. You’d be doing yourself a huge favour, trust me.

Thank you for listening to my rambling. I know this is incoherent. I know this isn’t the greatest thing you’ve ever written. But the depression has been all-consuming today. Even summoning the strength to write to you is a victory I should be celebrating. So now this letter is done, go and give your scrumptious wife a surreptitious bum squeeze from an insanely jealous younger you.

I’m glad you’re happy, Addy. At least, I hope you are.

Love n hugs,
Younger Addy


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31 Days of Bipolar: Day 26. Your future hasn’t been written yet…

Day 26: How do you see your future beyond the state you are in currently?

the-future

As with anyone’s future, nondescript decisions made today can have a lasting, and monumental, impact on one’s future. You might decide to walk a different route to the supermarket, slip on a discarded piece of fruit and find yourself with a shattered ankle leading to months, if not years of reconstructive surgery. Alternatively – and on a slightly more chirpier note – you might accidentally bump into someone in the supermarket, be spellbound by their exotic eyes and find yourself, in several years, marrying them on a beach somewhere in the Bahamas. No-one knows the direction one’s life is going to take. Every decision we make has an effect, every path our lives take has an impact. That’s the beauty of the future; the unknown.

So how does one write about the unknown? How do you decide, for better or worse, what your future is going to hold? Well, the answer is simple, you pontificate on three possible outcomes – the reality, the unlikely and the dream – each of which being a possible route your life could take.

The Reality

However much I am chagrined to write it, this is the most likely scenario in my future.

I will spend the next forty years of my life living in a town that I can’t stand, constantly waging a war with PTSD, social anxiety and the ups and downs of bipolar. Occasionally there will be periods of euthymia, periods where things work out, where things go my way, but for the most part I will feel depressed at the nothingness of my life and spend numerous months contemplating what might’ve been. Certainly there will be times when things get too much and I attempt to take my own life; but these attempts will fail and force me into the realization that I cannot achieve anything, that nothing I do is right and thus, it isn’t worth trying. This will cause me to give up and just live a routine based, monotonous existence where I make no effort whatsoever to change my lot in life.

Eventually I will give up on support services, leading me to live as a recluse, with little to no human interaction, causing my voices to become deafening to fill the gap. In time, my physical health will fail and my ability to walk and cycle will dissipate, this will render me housebound, causing my depression to increase ten-fold. Unable to leave the house, with no-one to love, I will slowly wither away and die a lonely, forgotten soul.

After several months the stench emanating from my apartment will cause someone to call the police and my decomposed body will finally be found. Autopsy reports will find that I died of a broken heart and I will be buried a pauper, in an unmarked grave, with no-one to mourn me.

The Unlikely

The likelihood of this outcome ever occurring is slim to none, but as they say, never say never!

One sunny, inconsequential day I will be walking down to the supermarket when I look down and notice a lottery ticket sitting on the pavement. Attached to this lottery ticket is a note indicating that it has been left to be found; a random act of kindness from an unknown soul. I pick up the lottery ticket and pocket it, thanking the person who has left it with a cheerful nod. Later that week, after randomly remembering the ticket, I check it against the numbers and discover – much to my surprise – that I have won $100 million! After performing what could only be called a merry jig of celebration I toast my good fortune with a glass of coca cola and head to bed knowing that my future can now be anything I dream it to be.

After collecting my winnings I go on a mini-spending spree, updating my wardrobe with stylish, eccentric clothes, donating several million to charities and treating myself to a first class round the world plane ticket. I visit India, Thailand, Canada, the US, take a trip on the Trans-Siberian Express and spend several long months touring Europe before heading home to Scotland, via my parents house in South Wales. Whilst in South Wales I decide to visit the Doctor Who production office where I score a walk-on cameo in an episode, a walk-on cameo that leads me to meet Jenna Coleman, whom I dazzle with my debonair wit and eccentric attitude to life. Enamored, she dumps her boyfriend and we begin a torrid love affair that eventually leads to our marriage. Shortly after, I write a film-script and decide to direct the film myself, casting my wife in the lead role. The film is an outstanding success; the critics love it, the general public adore it, and it sweeps the award ceremonies like nothing before.

Deciding to settle down and start a family, Jenna and I purchase a small cottage in the Highlands of Scotland and get down to making babies. Nine months later we are the proud parents of twin girls! Eighteen months later a little boy joins our fold. In between all the baby making, I have knuckled down to write my Inverness Chronicles, and shortly after, the first is published. It immediately becomes a phenomenon of the book world, unlike anything seen since Fifty Shades of Grey or the Harry Potter books. Within ten years I have written the remaining novels in the series, each received with critical acclaim, and slap myself on the back for finally getting my act together and writing what I have always wanted to write.

Over the years we travel with our family unit, exploring every mile of Scotland and Canada, happily wiling away our lives in marital and familial bliss. As old age begins to take hold we curb our traveling urges and settle back into our cottage, allowing our children to dote on us until, eventually, we die within hours of each other. Our funeral is held in the small Highland village in which we live and it is attended by hundreds of mourners, all come to celebrate our lives with song, frivolity and numerous jigs of remembrance. We are buried, side by side, in a cemetery overlooking a loch.

The Dream

Although ‘the unlikely’ scenario would be a rather brilliant future, my dream future would be markedly different.

After years – if not decades – of hard work, determination and sheer-bloody minded stubbornness, I eventually reach a place in my life where I am no longer governed by anxiety or PTSD. Free from the crippling aftereffects of abuse, and with my new-found ability talk to other human beings, I celebrate my return to “life” by sparking up a conversation with a beautiful librarian. Charming her with my self-deprecating humor and dry, unadulterated wit, we agree to go to dinner where the courtship continues. After several months of dates, of varying activity, we fall deeply in love and, out of the blue, I propose to her as the sun sets on a beautiful beach. She accepts, and, unable to wait, we marry within months.

Our relationship – born out of a shared love of books, arts and culture, film and writing – continues to go from strength to strength. She accepts my bipolar, assists me with relapses into anxiety and helps me manage my occasional flare-ups of PTSD. To reciprocate, I shower her with affection, encourage her to pursue her dreams and assist her however and whenever I can. After a year or two, we discover she is pregnant and nine months later are the proud parents of a beautiful girl, whom we name Amelia, in honor of our favourite Doctor Who companion. We settle down to raise our baby, my wife returning to work whilst I stay at home to look after the child whilst writing in my spare time. This writing eventually pays off when my book – The Ghosts that Haunt Me – is accepted for publication. To celebrate we fall beneath the sheets and, nine months later, are the proud parents of a beautiful, bouncing boy, whom we name Alexander, in honor of our shared love of the Buffy character.

As my writing career continues – with successive books being published to middling critical acclaim – I decide to write an autobiographical account of my journey with mental illness. Using my blog as inspiration, All that I am, All that I ever was is published and soon becomes a minor phenomenon. Its publication leads to a new career as an inspirational speaker; recounting my journey to audiences of troubled teens, providing them with hope that their future can be something wonderful, and needn’t be governed by labels or psychiatric conditions.

When our children are a little older we decide to move from Australia to Scotland, where we buy a house in Inverness. In between school and work commitments – my wife taking a job at the local library, myself taking on public speaking engagements – we travel the length and breadth of Scotland, allowing our children to soak in and explore the rich countryside. We go Nessie hunting on Loch Ness. Ramble through the history of Glencoe. And spend weekends otter hunting in the wilds of the Outer Hebridean winter. We are not rich, we don’t live in a big house or stay in five-star hotels, but we are happy; blissfully so.

As time winds on my physical health starts to deteriorate and eventually I succumb to the ravages of cancer, a byproduct of my years spent as a smoker. My funeral is held in Glenfinnan, on the shores of Loch Sheil, and my ashes scattered in the waters of my favourite loch. Although not jam-packed, there are a number of close friends and family members at the funeral, celebrating my life’s good, bad and ugly moments.

In time, my wife and children overcome their grief and go on to lead happy, productive lives. She finds a new man to spend her elder years with, they pursue their dreams with relish and conviction; their hopes and goals being met time and again, out of the determination and self-belief their father taught them.

It means your future hasn’t been written yet.
No one’s has.
Your future is whatever you make it.
So make it a good one, both of you.
~Back to the Future~


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31 Days of Bipolar: Day 15. We can’t predict the future, no matter how hard we try

Day 15: What would you ask your future self if you could?

letter

Dear Older Addy,

You may find this a strange request coming from someone who is you, only younger, but I am writing to seek your advice. And in the grand old tradition of those “choose your own adventure” novels you used to read as a kid, you’re going to have to choose between two sections, for the advice that I seek is dependent on which path your life took.

So if you have been alone for the last twenty years, slowly trying to eek out an existence whilst battling your bipolar, social anxiety and PTSD, read section ONE.

However, if you were able to stabilise your mental illnesses and are currently living in a loving relationship with a woman who doesn’t mind you giving her the occasional surreptitious bum squeeze, read section TWO.

~ ONE ~

Oh.

I’m not quite sure what to say. I was hoping – really, seriously – hoping that you would be skipping this section. I was hoping that you had been able to move past your illnesses and find a way to live a happy, connected, loving life with a woman who loves you and friends who care for you. I was hoping – really, seriously – hoping that there would be surreptitious bum squeezes in your future. But alas. There is not. And me writing these hopes here are probably making you depressed and miserable, so sorry about that, I’m just a little sad, for I hoped – really, seriously – hoped that there was something better in our future. Better than the hell you’ve had to put up with for the last twenty years.

So I guess, without trying to make you even more miserable, I’ll ask my question, which is really quite simple: how did you do it?

How were you able to survive all the pain, all the misery, all the chaos, all the mind-numbing, crippling agony? How were you able to stop the PTSD from consuming you? How were you able to deal with the panic attacks, the anxiety attacks and the endless up-down cycle of bipolar? And how were you able to stop the crippling ramifications of abuse from causing you to kill yourself?

I ask only because I have no idea what to do about any of this. As you know, from your own memory, I’m currently writing this letter whilst lost in the wilderness of mental illness. I am controlled on a daily basis by the incessant mood swings, by the destructive PTSD and crippling social anxiety. Nothing I do seems to have any impact. Nothing I do makes any difference. And I find myself thinking about suicide more and more because I just can’t keep going like this for much longer. So how were you able to stop the pain from consuming you completely. How were you able to live for twenty years in the same endless cycle of pain, misery, loneliness and isolation?

HOW DID YOU DO IT?

I shout only because I need to know and I need to know now. Things are getting too much for me to deal with and I need something, anything, from you to restore my hope, to restore my strength and set me on track to cope with everything that is overwhelming me at the moment. You must have navigated through it otherwise you wouldn’t still be here. You must have found something to assist you in your journey otherwise the pain would have consumed you. And I need you to tell me what that something was, because I am finding it harder and harder to continue in this vein.

How did you do it?

[Breathe]

Okay, I’ll stop being so needy, it isn’t becoming. You’ll either answer my request or you won’t, that’s up to you, but allow me to say before I depart one thing: bravo! Bravo sir, for surviving the endless onslaught of suicidal ideation. Bravo sir, for not allowing your mental illness to consume you. Bravo sir, for not giving in to your pain. Bravo sir, for continuing to be true to yourself, even though life didn’t work out the way we hoped it would.

Stay strong, dear friend, we’ll get through this together.

Love and hugs,
Younger Addy xox

~ TWO ~

Excellent!

Wonderful!

Fantabulous!

You have no idea how happy I am to know that you’re reading these words! To know that you were able to stabilise your mental illnesses and have settled down in a life, a life with a woman who loves you no less, is music to my ears. To know that in my future there is love, support, friendship and kindness. To know that my future isn’t a lonely, miserable cesspit of isolation and trauma is something that fills me with so much happiness it makes my present seem less painful. So knowing this. Knowing that there is something in my future beyond loneliness and pain, my question is simple: how did you do it?

How did you navigate the minefield of trauma? How did you manage to overcome your crippling social anxiety disorder? How were you able to stabilise the bipolar affective disorder? And how – how – were you able to move past the crippling ramifications of abuse and learn to trust again?

I ask only because I have no idea what to do about any of this. As you know, from your own memory, I’m currently writing this letter whilst lost in the wilderness of mental illness. I am controlled on a daily basis by the incessant mood swings, by the destructive PTSD and crippling social anxiety. Nothing I do seems to have any impact. Nothing I do makes any difference. So how did you manage it? What magical, mystical answer revealed itself to you? What is it that I’m not doing at the moment that I need to do in order to achieve the life you have now?

How did you meet the woman in your life? Did it stem from some random incident, or was it something you actively sought out? Did you have to woo her with ridiculous chat-up lines or was it a more organic introduction? Did she have massive stigma about your mental illnesses that you had to whittle down over time, or was she accepting of your conditions from the get go? Did she have to ask for all those surreptitious bum squeezes or were you able to work past your confidence and just give them to her?

HOW DID YOU DO IT?

I shout only because I need to know and I need to know now. I need to start living now, not in twenty years time, surely there must be something – some small piece of information that you can give me, some minor observation that I’ve yet to see, that could help me begin living now. Maybe if you have nothing you could ask that beautiful woman of yours for her input. She must care about you. She must be open to helping someone. I can’t imagine you being with anyone who isn’t open to help, who isn’t open to putting other people first. Please. I beg you. I’m grovelling on hands and knees. I need to know.

How did you do it?

[Breathe]

Okay, I’ll stop being so needy, it isn’t becoming. You’ll either answer my request or you won’t, that’s up to you, but allow me to say before I depart one thing: bravo! Bravo sir, for not allowing your mental illness to consume you completely. Bravo sir,  for finding someone to love. Bravo sir, for being able to stop existing and start living. Bravo sir, for your undeniable strength, determination and passion for living the best life you could.

Now hop away and give that woman of ours a surreptitious bum squeeze from younger you; who knows what it could lead to! ;p

Love and Hugs,
Younger Addy xox


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Exercises to build self-esteem: #6. Setting your goals

The past, the present…

Have you ever looked at another person and wonder how they do it? How they overcome all forms of adversity to become someone brilliant, someone talented, someone the world looks up to? The answer, unsurprisingly given the theme of the week, is confidence. It doesn’t matter whether you conform to societal ideals of beauty or if you have a piece of paper with a few letters scribbled on it, what matters is how you see who you were, who you are and who you want to be.

This week we have examined exercises that deal with both past and present. The things we are grateful for; the many things we love about ourselves; the simple joys and pleasures of life. Today, it’s time to think about the future.

…and the future!

Quite often, those with low self-esteem have a difficult time believing they will ever amount to anything. Their mind is too busy holding the mistakes of the past against them to allow them time to think of the future. In those rare moments when we do think of the future, it is always clouded with negative statements like I’m not good enough to do that or there’s no way I can become this, negative statements that sabotage us into not even trying in the first place.

A method which can be used to focus our mind onto what we want to become is to set some reachable goals. Nothing outlandish, we’re not talking I want to discover the location of the lost city of Atlantis here, just simple things that can help us believe in ourselves and push us toward attaining our desires, all of which we deserve.

Setting your goals

1. Take a clean sheet of paper. It wouldn’t surprise me given how many times I’ve written that this week, that sooner or later it will become a major search term that brings people to this blog!

2. Make sure you are in a comfortable and relaxed situation.

3. Upon the paper, begin to write down realistic goals that you would like to achieve in your life.

Some tips to help set your goals:

– State your goals in the positive. There’s no place for negativity here, send all that to the naughty corner.
– Don’t overcomplicate your goals or make them completely unattainable, this will only bring you down.
– Make sure you have full and total control of your goal. This is a reliance free zone!
– Remember, it’s all about the details. Make each goal as detailed as possible.

4. Once you have pictured you goal, try to list a few things you can do to realize it. Don’t worry too much if you can’t at this stage. The important thing with this exercise is to practice focusing on your needs and desires, to allow yourself to believe you can have the future you deserve.

5. Once you have written your goals pin them above your desk, put them in your journal, keep them in your nightstand so you can return to them in the future and keep them updated.

My goals

When it came to setting my goals I decided to set six of them, as I like the number six and lots of wonderful things happen in sixes, like…ummm…chocolate hot cross buns usually come in packs of six, and…umm…well, it’s just a nice number okay! A neat half dozen dreams!

Although from this point on they are not dreams, they are things that will happen, with a bit of hard work.

Goal #1: To obtain the Disability Support Pension

Why it is important to me:
(Try to list as many reasons as you can)

1. It is impossible for me to balance mental health, housing, bills and food on the Newstart allowance.
2.
I believe the DSP will allow me to get some form of humility (and then life) back.
3.
It will help me stabilize my mental health problems as I won’t have so many hoops to jump through.
4.
Being on the DSP will help me view myself as ‘no longer being on the verge of homelessness 24/7!’

What do I need to do to make this goal a reality?
(Once you have the goal in your head, try to jot down a few things you can do to realize these emotions)

I need to make an appointment to see my doctor and have him fill out the relevant paperwork before handing over my application at the nearest Centrelink office before twiddling my thumbs for several weeks (months?) whilst they faff around trying to make a decision – all whilst I continue hovering over the abyss of homelessness because hey, that’s what bureaucracy is all about!

Date goal was set: 30 September 2012

Date goal was accomplished:

Goal #2: To get a haircut

Why it is important to me:

1. Because it is too scruffy and makes me look ugly.
2.
It will help me win a victory in my battle against anxiety (as I have major issues with hairdressers)
3.
It will increase my self-confidence.

What do I need to do to make this goal a reality?

I need to spank my anxiety and distrust of humanity into submission long enough to: walk down the road, enter a hairdressing salon, speak to the (usually gorgeous female) hairdresser, sit down and allow someone to be all intimate with my hair. This is a lot harder for me than it sounds! I also need to achieve goal #1, for without it, I can’t afford a haircut and cutting it myself is a really bad idea!

Date goal was set: 30 September 2012

Date goal was accomplished:

Goal #3: This one’s personal, sorry, but I’ll tell you why it’s important…

Why it is important to me:

1. It would be the realization of a lifelong dream.
2.
It would be a major victory in my battle against anxiety.
3.
It would be a major victory in my battle against depression.
4.
It would be a major victory in my battle against the trauma of abuse.
5.
It would increase my self-confidence.
6. I would be honoring a promise I made to Sammi.
7. It would make me so very happy, and I need more of that.
8. It would give me something interesting to write about on my blog.

Date goal was set: 30 September 2012

Date goal was accomplished:

Goal #4: To attend a social event (where there are other people, obviously)

Why it is important to me:

1. It would be a major victory in my battle against anxiety.
2.
Because I miss socializing and being around other people.
3.
It would make me happy.
4.
It would increase my self-confidence.
5.
It would give me something interesting to write about on my blog.
6.
I’m tired of being alone.

What do I need to do to make this goal a reality?

I need to spank my anxiety and distrust of humanity into submission long enough to: communicate with people online for a sufficient enough time to be invited somewhere, walk to the somewhere, be in a room full of people for several hours and talk to people whilst in that room without having an embarrassing (and ultimately humiliating) panic attack. I also need to achieve goal #1 and goal #2 otherwise I won’t be able to afford to go anywhere and I’d rather not look like a yeti if I did.

Date goal was set: 30 September 2012

Date goal was accomplished:

Goal #5: To write and have published online a short story or article

Why it is important to me:

1. I have loved writing since I was a child and it physically hurts when I can’t do it.
2.
There are so many stories inside me I need to get them out before they eat me from within.
3.
I believe I can write well enough for people to enjoy.
4.
It would be an achievement.
5.
It makes me happy.

What do I need to do to make this goal a reality?

All I need to do to achieve this is research a market and focus myself for long enough to write a piece that would fit the market; whether it is non-fiction, fiction, opinion or random diatribe. I have the intelligence and talent, but at this point in my life, I just don’t have the focus. Arg!

Date goal was set: 30 September 2012

Date goal was accomplished:

Goal #6: To develop and maintain an exercise routine

Why it is important to me:

1. It would increase my self-confidence and self-esteem.
2.
Because I want to be able to look in the mirror and be happy with what I see.
3.
It would help with my mental health.
4.
It would no doubt make for more embarrassing and amusing blog posts.

What do I need to do to make this goal a reality?

Get off my lazy, good for nothing, worthless ass and just start moving!

And that sentence is hardly embracing the lessons I’ve been imparting this week, so, I shall rewrite a little more positively.

Get off my gorgeous, highly spankable, magnificent ass and start making myself look even hotter than I already am!

I’d also need to find a bicycle as I miss cycling so very, very much!

Date goal was set: 30 September 2012

Date goal was accomplished:

Although I have not set an official time-frame for these goals, I am working toward having them accomplished by the end of this year. Each time a goal is accomplished I vow to write a blog post detailing how I went about it, what happened and how awesome it made me feel.

Coda

Self-esteem doesn’t come easy, nothing worth anything in life ever does, but if you suffer from low self-confidence please do not give up. I know how painful and debilitating having low self-esteem can be, I live with non-existent self-love every day, but I know that things will never change unless I make them.

Undertaking the exercises I’ve written about this week may seem silly and pointless, but I assure you it’s not. After completing each exercise I felt strangely calm and contented. Not only did it feel good to release some of the negativity, but allowing myself the honor of loving myself made me smile, laugh and for a few moments filled me with the belief that I do deserve things. That I am worth something.

Even though the negative thoughts may return it’s important you keep believing how brilliant and beautiful you are.

Because no matter what anyone tells you – you really are someone wonderful :)

 

Other posts in this series: