good actors

when i was little all i really wanted to be was an adult.
they really seemed to have a handle on this thing called life.
they really had it together.
evidently...they were really good actors.

no one warned me that life could be such a soul-sucking menace
on the flip side, of course, life is a beautiful, nourishing entity that i feel honoured to live.
but it is a fine line.
at this stage of life, it is a very very fine line.

at 24, i still feel like a child.
unsure, eager and scared shitless.

i digress.

the fire alarm rang out in my friend's apartment building and within minutes, people lined the streets, holding their prized possessions lest they lose everything they have ever had. for some reason, the image was spectacular. neighbours - but really, more like strangers - standing on the dimly lit street, winter woolies hastily wrapped around necks and mittens stuffed in pockets. people holding that one thing they know they could not live without..
a hard drive
a cat
lip chap
a cell phone

i started to think, what would i take? at 24, what do i have?

nothing.

at 24, i have a degree in an obscure program, a couple skeins of wool, a five year track record as a receptionist, a bin of worms and a couple of books.

full circle.
scared shitless.

as much as i am exhausted of this stage of life...i fear i have nothing substantial to show for it.
i turn up empty-handed.
hopeless.
like i played a very long and intense game and, in the end, the screen went dark and the words
please try again
danced across the screen


days like this, i have to remind myself that it won't always be like this.
there will come a time when i may actually be on steady ground.
if only for a few minutes.
all i can hope is that my path will show itself and soon
because, despite it all, i still believe in it.

it..the calmness that signifies you are right in the place at the right time.

i still do.

loving me

someone once said that in our culture, ripe with self-hatred, the biggest rebellion there is, is to love yourself. flaws and all.

i love this....in theory of course. the actual loving myself has been a draining and erratic journey. and, damn it anyway, i am still not at the holy grail. 

but i vowed to. it was that fateful evening when i discovered that my four year old cousin was ashamed of her body. the word fat should not be in her vocabulary and yet, there she was, crying fat.

i was outraged, saddened and determined.

i wrote a letter. it was succinct and went something like this:

dear world,

you want me to hate myself. i won't.

suck it.

love,

brittany

it was adorned with my signature, loopy wiggles and squiggles that meant i was committed.

after all, i knew that if we all continued to hate ourselves, young women would follow suit. 

their power would fall to the way side, it would mean nothing. nothing. unless they truly loved themselves in a way that no one else possibly could.

true to form - i did not have a plan.
although i began to realize that this path to loving myself is inextricably linked to wellness
i don't know why.
i don't know when this became the case.
maybe it was always the case.
but i realized that if i was not taking care of my body...i did not really love my body.

and thus it began.

i would love to report that i stared at myself in the mirror with lovestruck eyes and whispered sweet beautiful nothings to myself.
i did not.
i am not quite there yet.

but i have been spending mornings and evenings and any other minute i can spare to practicing gratitude.
being grateful for my body.
early mornings, i push snooze and reserve the next ten minutes to think these thoughts...

i am thankful for my hips.
i am thankful for my breasts.
i am thankful for my hair.

and it continues until i have acknowledged all my parts in all their imperfect glory.

i have also become more introspective and have began to ask myself the really tough questions..
you know, like,

do i really want that latte?

as it turns out, i do not.
when i drink it, i don't feel well physically.
i feel accomplished...like i have checked something off my to do list...but i do not feel well.
of course there are times i can predict the sluggish aftermath of one too many cookies.
but i do it anyway.
the 90/10 rule, folks.

i feel different. i feel happier. and rumour has it, when you feel happy, you radiate happiness regardless of your dress size.
i vow to pay it forward.

up next: naked dance parties

a candle

i got home and a lit a candle.

one sole candle

this action seems minimal and dismissive
but for me, this act was the beginning.

the beginning of acknowledging my loneliness...

i digress.
the source of this loneliness is known to me and only me
and i intend to keep it so.

but this candle.
it was a symbol.
a way for me to acknowledge myself.
acknowledge this space as my own
and to make damn sure that i knew i was worth it.

i only ever used to light candles when i was expecting visitors.
only then would i adorn my room in dimly lit candles.
on this particular eve, i knew i would be alone. all night.
this did not stop me.

and you know what?
i am beginning to quite like my loneliness.
sometimes it can swallow me up whole.
other times, i observe it.
and then i ask myself what it is that i really want to do.
and i do it.
no questions asked.
no one to ask them.

i quite like this thing - my loneliness - after all.