It’s fine to be flawed

I had a big cry-baby snot fest the other night. First time in ages. Other than, perhaps, the sporadic slightly fizzy nose that occurs when happening upon ‘suggested for you’ Facebook videos of cute ‘n’ cuddly animals loving each other despite their differing species’.

It’s hard work spitting all those tears out. But even though your eyes feel sore and your nose looks like you’re six months too early for Comic Relief, it’s actually quite relieving. So I’m going to finish the job by blogging. Let’s see if we can get the rest of this stubborn nonsense out via a qwerty keypad…

This is not a reflective post. This is not a ‘today I learnt x…’ post. This is a ‘perhaps with each word I type I will make myself feel a teensy bit better’ post. It’s an attempt at self care, I guess.

So here goes.

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How many times do I have to twist and turn, flex and fight. Compromise. Keep quiet. Stay calm and grip tightly onto a fragile peace.

My appearance, my skills, my life, my choices, my curtains, my boots – all vulnerable to critique. When are those comments mine to own? To crush. When can I destroy them? Out loud.

If I own them, divulge them, am I breaking egg shells that aren’t mine to break.Who will put them together again? Is there a glue strong enough.

Is there a boot strong enough to crack them in the first place?

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