Tag: mentalwellbeing

You can’t sit with me

You can’t sit with me

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

The question I get asked the most in relation to my disability, and the one I find the most difficult to answer is how I feel about the image of my shoes. Do I like them? Do I have to wear them all the time? Why does it matter what they look like at all, if they help me to walk?

If you look at my social media, then odds are you’re going to think that I don’t mind what my callipers look like, and maybe (at a push), I’ve made it seem like they make me feel quite confident. But sharing videos and images which include my shoes, or me walking, is a new thing I’m consciously doing to try and get used to what they look like, rather than something which comes naturally.

It’s not that I hate what they look like, or that I wish I didn’t have to wear them, however, it’s also not honest for me to say that I like my shoes or would choose them if I could. If I could. That’s the most important point. I don’t have a choice and have never had a choice, so the concept of wanting to wear something else feels pointless because I can’t. Therefore when I was a little girl, I just didn’t think about whether my callipers looked good, because in order for me to go anywhere or do anything, they were my only option.

The first time I actively considered their appearance was when I was in Year 11 and I was getting ready for prom with my friends; we all had beautiful (extortionately expensive – thanks Mum and Dad 😀 ) dresses, but my friends could wear pairs of matching heels with their outfits, whereas I had one option for footwear. An option which was definitely not the one I would’ve chosen if the focus what aesthetics. But again, if I wanted to actually go to the prom, then that was the one I had to wear, so it wasn’t worth spending much time sulking about it.

Moments like my Year 11 prom have continued in the years since; weddings, university balls, or nights out where I probably would’ve preferred matching my outfit with my shoes but haven’t moped too much about not being able to, to save myself needless upset. They weren’t often though, and they were fleeting. The most damaging time for my self-esteem relating to my shoes was university, where my Northernness and my personality made me feel like I didn’t fit so much at times, that I couldn’t be bothered for the disability to add another reason to stand out, so I mostly wore outfits covering my callipers for the first couple of years. One time, I remember laughing when a lad in a bar had been giving me the eye for a while, until he eventually came over to talk to me, only to spot my shoes then spin 180 and walk the other way. It was such a repulsive action that I genuinely found it funny and wasn’t hurt much by it, but it did sum up the way I felt seen by some of those around me at that time.

Since then, I’ve gotten back to the level of comfort I felt in my shoes before I became aware of how nasty the world can be at times. I surround myself with family and friends who regularly remind me that there’s nothing wrong with my shoes, or how I walk, and making videos for social media has forced a realisation that actually, my shoes can look quite cool with some outfits. Still, there’s something in my head that whispers that a man I like isn’t going to be interested in me if he sees my social media first; if he sees the conversations and expressions of disability, before he talks to me. I know it’s not logical or fair, but that little voice still tells me that if a lad I’ve met in person then sees and likes a post where he can see my callipers, then he’s not understood the video. He’s not realised what he’s watching.

It’s internalised ableism and it’s difficult to get rid of completely because according to hundreds of years of history and literature, disabled bodies aren’t supposed to be attractive – that doesn’t mean that they aren’t (OF COURSE), but I also grew up in this ableist society too so no matter my parents’, friends’, or wider family’s efforts, some aspects of the negative views towards disability are going to seep through. I do know the ideas aren’t fair though, so on the days when I don’t like what my shoes look like, I try to tell the voice in my head to quieten down. It’s the same voice everyone has – the one that tells you yes, you do look fat in that, or yes, everyone here does find you boring – it’s just mine has a fun, extra piece of ammo for the bitching.

Which is great!

But, we try not to end on downers here, so I want to finish this month’s blog by reminding myself that the voice is just a mean girl. And she’s not invited to the party.

Change that channel

Change that channel

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 1 Comment

If you read last week’s blog, then you’ll already know that at the minute I’m on a getting-to-know-myself moment. (I was going to say journey, but I was a little bit sick in my mouth as I started to type it, so we’ll stick with the slightly less cringey, ‘moment’). Within this, I’ve decided to take a break from the world of romance and dating, but I’ve approached this break differently than I have before.

Like many of us who experience tedious, stressful, intermittently exciting situationships rather than healthy relationships, I’ve had times when I’ve told myself and everyone around me that I’m ‘so done with it’, I’m ‘not interested’, and I’m ‘just not going there’. And then I’ve scrolled on Hinge. Or had those wise words of ‘it’ll come when you’re not looking for it’ ringing in my ears, thinking I’ve now told the world that I’m not looking for it, so does that mean that it’s right around the corner? Therefore, I’ve not been taking a break at all, I’ve just done the same thing in a different font.

However, this time I decided to take a measure that quite a few people viewed as a little bit extra when I told them about it: I chose to stop watching any TV programmes that are based on falling in love and relationships.

Normally, I’m the type to watch the Netflix reality dating shows, like Love is Blind, Perfect Match; a little bit of Love Island here and there, then some Married at First Sight in the mornings whilst putting my make-up on. And even though many of these shows highlight how horrid relationships can be – with lasses crying their eyelashes off and lads losing the will to live – they also pump out the idea that romantic love is what everyone is always looking for and that without it, we’re lacking. Whilst I do believe that pretty much everyone wants a healthy, loving romantic relationship, when you’ve struggled to find one, having these programmes constantly remind you that you don’t have one can really impact your self-esteem. So I turned them off.

‘How’s that been going?’, I hear you ask. Well, do you know what? The effects have actually been really noticeable. Most obviously, I just don’t think about my not being in a relationship anywhere near as much as I did a few months ago. I’d never been kept up at night about it before, but I’ve definitely had fewer moments of sinking into sadness or loneliness on those evenings when I’ve been tired and my mind has begun to wander toward the sad girl playlist. In fact, I’ve begun to passively assess what kinds of things I’d been privileging over the past couple of years when it came to dating, and how it’s been a little bit off.

For example, I told my friend how as I was driving into work, a thought crossed my mind where I realised that I hadn’t dated or texted a lad who has made me properly laugh since I was a teenager. Yes, I’d laughed with them, or they’d laughed at something I’d said once and fed off of that, but nobody has properly made me giggle in a really long time. And I’ve always considered humour as a really important thing for me – or at least I thought I had. Also, I haven’t had really interesting conversations with these men about books, or art, or music, or anything that is actually important to me. So honestly, I’m wondering what we really spoke about.

I’m not saying any of this to suggest that all the lads I’ve been interested in have been boring – they absolutely haven’t, because I’m not one to waste my time with somebody who has nothing to say – it’s just that with all the popular culture in the world telling me that I need to be in a relationship ASAP, so I can be validated, I’ve been forgetting what actually makes me excited about people. Too often we privilege the story, or the text notification, or the sex over what we really love to do or talk about – sex is obviously still included in the ‘things we love to do with a romantic partner’, don’t get me wrong, but you know what I mean: it’s not as fun if you’re not emotionally invested in whoever you’re doing it with.

Maybe you don’t resonate with the things I’ve said here, but if you are the person who’s bored of feeling lonely on a Friday evening, or forever the third wheel to all their friends’ relationships, then try turning those shows off and see what it does for your state of mind. I’m not saying I’ll never watch a rom-com or a reality dating show again, it’s just that allowing yourself a break from the constant reminder that you’re single might show you that there are lots of far more interesting things about yourself than your relationship status.

Maybe I don’t mind these walls

Maybe I don’t mind these walls

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I’ve always considered myself as one of those people who, as the saying goes, wears their heart on their sleeve. But after hearing people give me their opinions on how I present myself – be they colleagues, friends, or potential romantic partners – it’d appear that I’m full of sh*t. This entire time I’ve been sitting here thinking I’m constantly giving away too much of myself, only to be told by one of my oldest and closest friends that I’ve always struggled to be vulnerable. So what am I understanding vulnerability to mean then? Because clearly there’s a disconnect going on somewhere.

The aspect of my life that people have always expected to be incredibly sensitive for me, is my physical disability. Only, I don’t think that I’ve ever struggled to tell whoever’s asked whatever it was they wanted to know; yes, there have been times when I’ve tired of having to say the same thing multiple times in a day, but the ‘I’ve got Spina Bifida, I was born with it, it’s a disability of the spine’ speech doesn’t really tap into my emotions. The aspects of it that are difficult to talk about are more to do with my desire to feel that it, and therefore I, am understood by someone other than my parents. And the anxiety that this might not ever happen.

On the other hand, when I’ve sat with myself and thought about the most vulnerable parts of me, what jumps out is the devotion I give to the people in my life who are most important to me. I might not be the one who sits in the cinema crying at the bit you should definitely cry at, but I am the one to feel physically sick if I think that I’ve accidentally upset someone I love. It’s silly really, but I go into a blind panic; my stomach goes into my throat, my hands will start to shake, and this will all happen regardless of whether I believe that what I did was actually wrong.

Then there’s the other side to the vulnerability of a person which isn’t necessarily related to negative feelings. With new social circles, I do hold back the part of myself that’s gentle and silly and playful because ever since I went to university, I’ve felt a little apprehensive about acting the way I always would around my school friends or my brothers because I don’t want my actions to be misinterpreted or judged.

Honestly, I think I hold back these parts of my personality when I’m first getting to know people because I’m just trying to read the room I’m in before I do anything to expose myself. When I was younger I’d go into social situations without any barriers up, but when you grow up you begin to learn that by doing that, sometimes it leaves room for hurt. Here, I’m not talking about something as drastic as bullying or abuse, I mean you might do something as simple as make the wrong joke around the wrong people because you assumed that they’d have the same sense of humour as everyone you grew up around, then find yourself branded as overly sarcastic or negative, when you were only trying to make everyone laugh. Or you might give your time, energy, and advice to someone who then gives you nothing in return, leaving you feeling deflated and cast aside.

Therefore, I don’t think it’s natural, or particularly helpful to show these possibly more vulnerable parts of your personality to others so soon after meeting, because you haven’t given yourself time to work anyone out yet. However, I do accept that by struggling to fully let go – especially around potential romantic partners – I sometimes show people what I think they want me to be in a given moment, rather than what I actually am. But then, who doesn’t? Especially at this age.

In all the conversations I have about my blog, my disability, and my life, the main thing I try to get across is that I know I don’t do everything perfectly – including accepting myself. However, as much as I’m a total perfectionist, I know that I’m never going to be without faults when it comes to self-love, so all I’m actively trying to do is my best. Therefore, unfortunately, I won’t always be comfortable in my own skin, accepting and loving of my disability, or as silly as I am with my brothers. But! These multiple layers of vulnerability are what makes people so interesting, and you’ve just got to be invested enough in a person to wait for the different parts to show.

Because, as a great philosopher once said: ‘Ogres are a lot like onions’.

Hot (and slightly insecure) girl summer

Hot (and slightly insecure) girl summer

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 3 Comments

I do my best to love my body for what it is – ‘flaws’ and all – as everyone should. But unfortunately, in my humanity, I have plenty of times when I’d prefer certain parts of myself to look a little different. For example, ever since my videos have taken to gaining thousands of views in a matter of hours, I’ve all of a sudden become slightly self-conscious of my teeth. Which is new.

If I’ve mentioned this and my newfound decision to get them straightened as soon as I can to my friends, then everyone immediately says there’s nothing wrong with my teeth – some even panic a little at the idea that I might lose my fangs through any sort of correction. Clearly, to others, what I’m judging as imperfect, is a part of myself that they see as showing who I am and it irks them that I might want to get rid of it. (Although, realistically there’s no need to panic because nobody is ripping out the fangs: long live.)

Last week I came back from spending some time with my parents, who now live in Rio de Janeiro – I’m aware that that’s a bit of a silly sentence but allow it – and whilst they were both at work, I went to sit on the beach every day. Sitting on a public beach is a genuinely fascinating experience. It’s truly one of the only places and situations where everyone puts themselves in a vulnerable position by wearing so little clothing that if they’ve got any insecurities about their bodies, then there are very few ways to hide them from view. For a few hours a day, everybody just gives in; they might be stressing about how they look in their heads, but nobody else can hear that internal monologue of insecurity. It’s lovely.

To keep things frank – as I try to do – I love wearing a bikini. Generally, I love the way I look even though there are many aspects of me that don’t match that ideal body type for a woman – given that that’s a totally fictional concept anyway. This being said however, I do try to hide taking my callipers on or off. And some days I had to psyche myself up to walk down to the sea, because I knew some people might spot my feet curve as I walked without the support of my shoes on uneven ground. Plus, I was on my own so didn’t have that comfort blanket of being next to someone who you know loves and accepts you. As a result, there was one day I actually sat for 30 minutes motivating myself to just stand up and walk 10 feet toward the sea.

What’s funny, is when I was encouraging myself to do this, I just kept thinking the words ‘nobody cares Betty, nobody is watching. But if they are, they’re as likely to be looking at your arse as they are your feet.’. I might not love what the lump just above my bum looks like, but I’m not ashamed or shy to say that the bum itself is great. So as I felt the insecurity start to flood into me, I (in a way) bullied confidence back into myself. It might not be the ‘healthy’ way to do it, but I made it into the sea.

I’m in a weird moment with my body right now. Some days I love her, other days I’m not so sure because I’m getting older and she’s changing, so there are new curves and lines to get used to. She gets her foot randomly infected at times, her legs don’t walk so straight, and she seems to have a tendency towards developing bruises or strains in areas that make very little sense, but to give her credit, she heals. And I’ve not fully worked out how to look after her properly yet. I like her though – I do mean that.

This metaphorical road to unconditional self-acceptance we’re all told we should tread, from what I’ve seen, is a pretty lifelong and tumultuous endeavour. No matter your confidence levels on one day or as shown on your social media, every single person on this planet will have minutes, hours, days, or weeks where they struggle to love what’s looking back at them in the mirror. Especially in clothing shop changing rooms because good god the lighting in there does NOTHING for anyone. Still, if I’ve learned anything from the motivational speeches given to me by the drunken middle-aged Yorkshire women in the smoking area of pubs and bars, criticizing every aspect of your physical image is a waste of time, and when you get older you’ll be wishing that the kids don’t do as much of it as you did at their age.

Patriarchal pressures and judgments of female (and male) bodies are very real and very piercing, but we can make the decision to shut ourselves up every now and then to ease the headache. And do NOT, EVER, comment on someone’s body whilst they’re on the beach because that should be a safe space where everyone’s physical, and therefore emotional, vulnerability is respected.

What’s the rush?

What’s the rush?

by elizabethmdouglas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

A few weeks ago, I don’t know what it was, but it seemed like everyone around me was just having a sh*t time of it. The sun had started to come out and we were all looking to plans of traveling, but in those lucid moments in between work days and going to sleep, so many of my friends were telling me that they felt completely lost.

For me, I was struggling with feeling really lonely romantically: I’d seen two of my closest friends starting to develop feelings for lads, causing me to look at where I was with that kind of thing, only to see a tumbleweed go across my phone screen. And as I’ve explained before, when I’m feeling lonely I do tend to feel it quite strongly; listening to sad songs whilst I drive from one job to the next. But then, I’ve also not grown up being allowed to wallow for too long – this does sometimes mean I’m not great at allowing myself to sit in my sadness, which isn’t always healthy, but then it also leads me to find solutions – so I decided that if I was going to feel lonely because I’m not texting anyone, then I should probably reply to somebody on Hinge…Since, you know, you’ve kind of got to talk to someone to have someone talk to you.

Then I dated a fit man for a month, so go figure. Obviously, given that I’m still single, it didn’t end in the preferred way but hey, everything’s a learning curve.

My friends and I weren’t just feeling like sh*t because the dating scene is a mess though. It seemed like all of us were re-evaluating every aspect of our lives – especially our careers – and each of us was just totally overwhelmed by the amount we felt we had to do and the fear that we weren’t where we were ‘supposed’ to be. Even though, this notion of ‘supposed’ never makes much sense if you deep it anyway, because who’s this big eye in the sky deciding what position my life should’ve reached by June 2023? And why’s it so bothered?

There is no correct way to do life, and not one of us will have the same life or career trajectory as the other, but we’re putting so much pressure on ourselves to reach a version of success that we couldn’t even describe if somebody asked us. This goes back to those booklets we had to fill out at school though, where we decided where we’d be at every age until we retired. Except, those booklets always failed to include the idea that that’s not how life works – for example, I don’t remember seeing ‘global pandemic’ in bold across 2019-2021 – or the fact that there’s actually no need for you to decide everything all at once. Therefore, I’m trying my best to remind myself of this every time I feel like I’m drowning in to-do lists and self-criticism.

I asked my housemate what she does when she’s in a rut and she said that she calls her parents. I do the same. So I’d like to take a moment to say that just because you’re an independent adult in most aspects of your life, if you feel like you need your Mum or Dad, then your age doesn’t matter. Sometimes their advice, or the act of having a conversation with them, is what you need. It doesn’t mean that you can’t function at all as an adult. That being said, if you still don’t know how to do your own laundry or how to cook a meal…then you should probably give that some immediate attention…just saying.

When I feel naff, I try to make time for the things I know will make me happy, like going to see some live music with a friend, or sitting next to a river in the middle of nowhere for an hour to read a book, or sparking a silly conversation on the family group chat. Anything to give me the dopamine boost I need to regroup and work the bigger things out in a calmer mindset. So, without meaning to sound like a guru here, if you’re feeling like how I described my own mindset last month as you read this, then try to think of what might get you back on track.

Because sometimes it feels like we’re all rushing around, and there’s no need to be so frantic.