I've seen the word "heartbreak" thrown around a lot, especially recently. We're heartbroken when a relationship ends, we're heartbroken when a celebrity we admire passes away, we're heartbroken when Tesco has sold out of our favourite flavour of ice-cream. All sad situations, yes. All with different levels of heartbreak.
It hasn't been until really recently that I've finally understood what the word heartbreak really means. The whole experience has been exhausting, painful and completely incomprehensible. And at the minute, the only way I can think of to make sense of the whole thing is to write about it. Whether or not I post it remains to be seen. But maybe by getting it all out in words, I can start to work through it.
(Little disclaimer: I'm not trying to dismiss the way anyone else deals with heartbreak. I know it's a very personal thing and we all react differently. I'm just talking about what it's been like for me in the last couple of weeks.)
Heartbreak isn't sitting in bed screaming and crying and tearing up photographs. I mean, maybe there was screaming and crying for the first few days. But it soon becomes apparent that screaming, crying, or anything else dramatic you may do won't make you feel any better. Nor will it bring back what you've lost.
Heartbreak is like a constant dull ache right in the depths of your chest. This ache is relentless. There's no eradicating it, only numbing it for a brief period of time. Believe me, I've tried everything to eradicate it. I've thrown myself into uni work, I've done more hours at work, I've cleaned the house from top to bottom. Nothing has worked. The pain might stop while you're immersed in your task, or with friends who make you laugh, but as soon as the house is clean, or your friends leave, the ache is there again, no less fierce than before.
Heartbreak is feeling like you're on auto-pilot. You go through the motions, trying to get on with daily life. Everything seems to be going fine, until heartbreak stops you in your tracks and makes you break down. It's pretty good at doing that. And as much as you don't want to give in to it, you want to carry on with your day as normal but feeling like this is so unbearable, you don't know if you can even get through the next hour.
Heartbreak is realising what you took for granted. It's never wanting to see the person who hurt you again, but it's also wanting to see them more than anything else in the world. Just to see them. To memorise every little detail about them, to remember how it felt when you were happy, and to hold on to that until heartbreak loosens its grip on you.
Heartbreak is missing the little things. It's coming back to an empty house and finding that it's so much colder than it used to be. Or getting two mugs out of the cupboard when you're making coffee on a Saturday morning... then remembering that you only need the one. Heartbreak is watching a TV show that you both used to love and all of a sudden not being able to bear it because it just isn't the same. Or not being able to sleep on their side of the bed, just because it's still theirs.
Heartbreak is replaying the same moments over and over again in your head. Spending hours lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what you could have done differently. Going over the happiest times and being willing to give anything to go back to feeling that way again.
Heartbreak is knowing that your life isn't ever going to be the same again, and that there isn't a single thing you can do about it. It's knowing that you'll be okay in the end, but at this point in time, seeing no light at the end of the tunnel. For now, the only thing you can do is give yourself time to hurt and try to move on. Which is exactly what I'm trying to do.
Love,
Sian Kathrine xo
I've seen the word "heartbreak" thrown around a lot, especially recently. We're heartbroken when a relationship ends, we're heartbroken when a celebrity we admire passes away, we're heartbroken when Tesco has sold out of our favourite flavour of ice-cream. All sad situations, yes. All with different levels of heartbreak.
It hasn't been until really recently that I've finally understood what the word heartbreak really means. The whole experience has been exhausting, painful and completely incomprehensible. And at the minute, the only way I can think of to make sense of the whole thing is to write about it. Whether or not I post it remains to be seen. But maybe by getting it all out in words, I can start to work through it.
(Little disclaimer: I'm not trying to dismiss the way anyone else deals with heartbreak. I know it's a very personal thing and we all react differently. I'm just talking about what it's been like for me in the last couple of weeks.)
Heartbreak isn't sitting in bed screaming and crying and tearing up photographs. I mean, maybe there was screaming and crying for the first few days. But it soon becomes apparent that screaming, crying, or anything else dramatic you may do won't make you feel any better. Nor will it bring back what you've lost.
Heartbreak is like a constant dull ache right in the depths of your chest. This ache is relentless. There's no eradicating it, only numbing it for a brief period of time. Believe me, I've tried everything to eradicate it. I've thrown myself into uni work, I've done more hours at work, I've cleaned the house from top to bottom. Nothing has worked. The pain might stop while you're immersed in your task, or with friends who make you laugh, but as soon as the house is clean, or your friends leave, the ache is there again, no less fierce than before.
Heartbreak is feeling like you're on auto-pilot. You go through the motions, trying to get on with daily life. Everything seems to be going fine, until heartbreak stops you in your tracks and makes you break down. It's pretty good at doing that. And as much as you don't want to give in to it, you want to carry on with your day as normal but feeling like this is so unbearable, you don't know if you can even get through the next hour.
Heartbreak is realising what you took for granted. It's never wanting to see the person who hurt you again, but it's also wanting to see them more than anything else in the world. Just to see them. To memorise every little detail about them, to remember how it felt when you were happy, and to hold on to that until heartbreak loosens its grip on you.
Heartbreak is missing the little things. It's coming back to an empty house and finding that it's so much colder than it used to be. Or getting two mugs out of the cupboard when you're making coffee on a Saturday morning... then remembering that you only need the one. Heartbreak is watching a TV show that you both used to love and all of a sudden not being able to bear it because it just isn't the same. Or not being able to sleep on their side of the bed, just because it's still theirs.
Heartbreak is replaying the same moments over and over again in your head. Spending hours lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering what you could have done differently. Going over the happiest times and being willing to give anything to go back to feeling that way again.
Heartbreak is knowing that your life isn't ever going to be the same again, and that there isn't a single thing you can do about it. It's knowing that you'll be okay in the end, but at this point in time, seeing no light at the end of the tunnel. For now, the only thing you can do is give yourself time to hurt and try to move on. Which is exactly what I'm trying to do.
Love,
Sian Kathrine xo
It's become a daily routine. I get out of bed, and go to the full-length mirror that we have in our spare bedroom. Lift up my t-shirt. How flat is my tummy today? Not very. It never is. Shouldn't have agreed to takeaway last night. Stupid girl.
Still got those tree-trunk thighs. And why are my hips so big?!
I can spend a good five or ten minutes stood in front of the mirror, analysing every lump and bump, every stretch mark, every little bit of me, wondering why all the little bits that I despise haven't disappeared overnight. Then I have to choose an outfit for the day that agrees with how fat or skinny I'm feeling that day. The whole process is painstaking.
Recently, I stopped in my tracks as I pulled out another jeans-and-jumper combination. What was I doing? This isn't me. I'm usually a fan of pretty, girly dresses. Now, here I was, so ashamed of my body that I was hiding behind baggy clothes.
The thing is, I've never been a particularly "big" girl. I've been a size 12 since I was around 15 years old, and up until now, I've been very much okay with that. I've never been an unhealthy weight or been at risk. And recently, when I've mentioned to friends or family that I've been feeling rubbish about the way I look, it very quickly gets dismissed. "Oh, don't be silly Sian," they say, "You don't need to lose any weight. You suit your size."
I don't know where it has come from, but it seems as though unless you're classed as "overweight", you should just be happy with your body, and you have no right to express the fact that you are self-conscious, or your confidence is low. Because you look okay through someone else's eyes, you should also look okay through your own.
Let me tell you now. That. Isn't. True.
Whether you're a size six, twelve or twenty-two, you are allowed to have low self-esteem. Whether you're medically seen as overweight, underweight, or somewhere in between, you are allowed to feel low about your body. Your feelings are no less valid. Okay?
I'm in no way saying that this is a positive way of thinking. In an ideal world, we'd all strut around like the demigods and goddesses that we are, confident in the knowledge that we are beautiful and perfectly made. But what I'm personally fed up of is having my thoughts about my body image dismissed because I'm a "normal" size.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that my low self-esteem has been affecting my whole life. Not only the clothes I wear, but it's been having a serious effect on my relationship with Luke, my social life and just the way that I carry myself. And I can't let this keep holding me back. I just can't.
For me, the way to overcome my poor body image has been to take control, and change my thinking. I've joined Weight Watchers, and lost four pounds in my first week, which has already been a massive confidence-boost. But it goes beyond losing weight. It's about my clothes fitting better, thinking more about the food that I'm eating, becoming fitter and healthier by doing exercise that I love, nourishing my body... and eventually, being happy in my skin again. The confidence will follow. I'm determined to get out of my body image slump and get back to being my old self again.
So, my beautiful readers, my message to you is to own your body. As long as you're healthy and happy, don't let anyone else dismiss your feelings, or tell you what to do with your body. If you're a size 8 and want to join the gym to build some muscle, you do it. If you're a size 14 and want to cut out junk food, well done you! If you're a size 20 and love yourself completely, you go girl!
Love yourself, everyone. Okay?
Love,
Sian Kathrine xo
It's become a daily routine. I get out of bed, and go to the full-length mirror that we have in our spare bedroom. Lift up my t-shirt. How flat is my tummy today? Not very. It never is. Shouldn't have agreed to takeaway last night. Stupid girl.
Still got those tree-trunk thighs. And why are my hips so big?!
I can spend a good five or ten minutes stood in front of the mirror, analysing every lump and bump, every stretch mark, every little bit of me, wondering why all the little bits that I despise haven't disappeared overnight. Then I have to choose an outfit for the day that agrees with how fat or skinny I'm feeling that day. The whole process is painstaking.
Recently, I stopped in my tracks as I pulled out another jeans-and-jumper combination. What was I doing? This isn't me. I'm usually a fan of pretty, girly dresses. Now, here I was, so ashamed of my body that I was hiding behind baggy clothes.
The thing is, I've never been a particularly "big" girl. I've been a size 12 since I was around 15 years old, and up until now, I've been very much okay with that. I've never been an unhealthy weight or been at risk. And recently, when I've mentioned to friends or family that I've been feeling rubbish about the way I look, it very quickly gets dismissed. "Oh, don't be silly Sian," they say, "You don't need to lose any weight. You suit your size."
I don't know where it has come from, but it seems as though unless you're classed as "overweight", you should just be happy with your body, and you have no right to express the fact that you are self-conscious, or your confidence is low. Because you look okay through someone else's eyes, you should also look okay through your own.
Let me tell you now. That. Isn't. True.
Whether you're a size six, twelve or twenty-two, you are allowed to have low self-esteem. Whether you're medically seen as overweight, underweight, or somewhere in between, you are allowed to feel low about your body. Your feelings are no less valid. Okay?
I'm in no way saying that this is a positive way of thinking. In an ideal world, we'd all strut around like the demigods and goddesses that we are, confident in the knowledge that we are beautiful and perfectly made. But what I'm personally fed up of is having my thoughts about my body image dismissed because I'm a "normal" size.
The more I thought about it, the more I realised that my low self-esteem has been affecting my whole life. Not only the clothes I wear, but it's been having a serious effect on my relationship with Luke, my social life and just the way that I carry myself. And I can't let this keep holding me back. I just can't.
For me, the way to overcome my poor body image has been to take control, and change my thinking. I've joined Weight Watchers, and lost four pounds in my first week, which has already been a massive confidence-boost. But it goes beyond losing weight. It's about my clothes fitting better, thinking more about the food that I'm eating, becoming fitter and healthier by doing exercise that I love, nourishing my body... and eventually, being happy in my skin again. The confidence will follow. I'm determined to get out of my body image slump and get back to being my old self again.
So, my beautiful readers, my message to you is to own your body. As long as you're healthy and happy, don't let anyone else dismiss your feelings, or tell you what to do with your body. If you're a size 8 and want to join the gym to build some muscle, you do it. If you're a size 14 and want to cut out junk food, well done you! If you're a size 20 and love yourself completely, you go girl!
Love yourself, everyone. Okay?
Love,
Sian Kathrine xo
I love Lush as much as the next blogger. Maybe even more. I'm actually currently on a Lush ban because I'm trying to save for driving lessons and I've been known to spend an obscene amount of money if I let myself wander in.
During my last visit to the store in Sheffield city centre, I got chatting to one of the sales assistants, who asked me "Are you a bath bomb girl or a bubble bar girl?" (It wasn't as creepy as it sounds!) And I honestly didn't know! Cue blog post inspiration! I bought one of each and decided to put them both to the test and see which one came out on top.
The bath bomb that I chose was Yog Nog, which was a yellow bomb with a cinder toffee scent. I LOVE cinder toffee, so I couldn't wait to get this one home to try it. It looks a bit weird when it turns the bath water bright yellow, but smells incredible! Lush actually tweeted me saying that Yog Nog is like "a big warm hug in a bath bomb" and that pretty much hits the nail on the head!
When I spotted the Magic Wand Bubble Bar, I just couldn't resist it! (It's since sadly gone into the sale, sob) It's a little more expensive than a bath bomb, but it's reusable which I really like! It's really sweet-smelling, kind of like candy floss, and as I was running my bath Luke said that he could smell it all the way from downstairs. I was a bit skeptical about whether or not it'd make many bubbles, but I was pleasantly surprised, I was left with plenty of bubbles and it smelled heavenly!
My verdict? I think I'm definitely a bubble bar girl. Don't get me wrong, I love a bath bomb, but there's something about a bubble bath which is just so relaxing, and I love how you can use them more than once. I can't wait to try more bubble bars from Lush's range! (Once I've paid for my first round of driving lessons...)
What about you? Do you prefer bath bombs or bubble bars?
Love,
Sian Kathrine xo
I love Lush as much as the next blogger. Maybe even more. I'm actually currently on a Lush ban because I'm trying to save for driving lessons and I've been known to spend an obscene amount of money if I let myself wander in.
During my last visit to the store in Sheffield city centre, I got chatting to one of the sales assistants, who asked me "Are you a bath bomb girl or a bubble bar girl?" (It wasn't as creepy as it sounds!) And I honestly didn't know! Cue blog post inspiration! I bought one of each and decided to put them both to the test and see which one came out on top.
The bath bomb that I chose was Yog Nog, which was a yellow bomb with a cinder toffee scent. I LOVE cinder toffee, so I couldn't wait to get this one home to try it. It looks a bit weird when it turns the bath water bright yellow, but smells incredible! Lush actually tweeted me saying that Yog Nog is like "a big warm hug in a bath bomb" and that pretty much hits the nail on the head!
When I spotted the Magic Wand Bubble Bar, I just couldn't resist it! (It's since sadly gone into the sale, sob) It's a little more expensive than a bath bomb, but it's reusable which I really like! It's really sweet-smelling, kind of like candy floss, and as I was running my bath Luke said that he could smell it all the way from downstairs. I was a bit skeptical about whether or not it'd make many bubbles, but I was pleasantly surprised, I was left with plenty of bubbles and it smelled heavenly!
My verdict? I think I'm definitely a bubble bar girl. Don't get me wrong, I love a bath bomb, but there's something about a bubble bath which is just so relaxing, and I love how you can use them more than once. I can't wait to try more bubble bars from Lush's range! (Once I've paid for my first round of driving lessons...)
What about you? Do you prefer bath bombs or bubble bars?
Love,
Sian Kathrine xo
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