Over the past two years this blog has acted as a kind of catharsis. It’s been a place for me to share my thoughts and put the things I'm struggling with into words. It’s allowed me the space to explore my feelings, celebrate the good days, and bare witness to the bad ones. The truth... Continue Reading →
Sometimes I feel like this year all I’ve done is wait to feel like myself again, but in fact I’ve spent so long waiting, I think I’ve forgotten what that used to feel like – or what that’s supposed to feel like.
When I say that having a bag does not affect sex, or that I am not self-conscious about it, I’m referring to the physicality of it. On the other hand, what its very existence reveals about me is something I have realised I'm conscious of.
So I gently tiptoe around my ever altering body, learning to adapt, learning to overcome and most importantly - learning to love.
...but as I match and exchange a few opening messages the inevitable question arrises: “what’s your insta?”
I wake up every morning and remind myself that I am no less worthy of love, connection, or belonging because of this bag. But I do this fully aware that there is going to be some days when I don’t believe myself, and making allowances for these moments is what really counts.
I think its important to remember that progress isn't always positive and exponential. Instead its arduous, fluctuating, distressing and yet despite this, it can still be incredibly rewarding.
I wrote this about a year and a half ago, in the midst of a serious flare, but I was always too embarrassed to post it...
Trust Your Gut 