It was that sort of tarmac-melting, inevitably sun-burning hot this past week and I celebrated my weekend off by eating lots and doing absolutely nothing productive. I had a picnic with a friend on Saturday afternoon (we talked about bullying and how friendships change over time) and went for a run in the evening, feeling self-conscious about my legging-clad thighs and greasy hair every time I passed anyone.
I sort of dislike going out and about in my hometown because it's so small and the kind of place where you'll inevitably run into thirty people you kinda-sorta know, the kind of people who would tell everyone "I saw Phoebe yesterday and she looked like she'd been dipped in chip fat!". I know that as a psychology student I should probably be aware of the fact that I judge myself far more harshly than anyone else does, that in reality no one cares about my ratty ponytail or tubby arse, but in my mind it's a really big deal every time I end up in that "Should I say hi? Should I keep looking at the pavement?" situation that seems so ridiculous as a twenty year old. I guess being home brings back all the feelings that I had over the years here at ten and thirteen and eighteen.
When I woke up on Sunday morning I felt oddly free and over it, like I could acknowledge that those issues just don't matter in the grand scheme of things. I pulled on shorts and my awful bra (the comfy saggy one that creates the illusion that I have the body of an octogenarian) and a vest and walked to a park by the river where I lay on a bench and listened to YouTube videos by
Rosianna Halse Rojas (who is just achingly clever and insightful and my dreamworld best friend). I also took these photos, one of which required me to stand on a bench and another which left me sitting on a big flat rock right in the river. I let go of the feelings of "What if someone sees me and everyone thinks I'm *uncool* forever?" for an hour and it was the most peaceful I've felt in months.
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| The riverbed |
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| I'm aware that the composition is craptacular but the colours are just so pretty. |
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| I love this tree's ghoul face. |
The moral of the story is to always wear awful bras and be unselfconscious.
Hello. I've really enjoyed both of your blog posts. I relate to this one a lot. Most days, I hate going out due to the chance I might see someone I know. There aren't many people I am comfortable with seeing in public. Sometimes, I do have a day like your Sunday where nothing is holding me back and all of my previous anxiety is reduced to almost nothing. I hope to have more days like this and I hope you do, too.
ReplyDeleteI look forward to reading more!
Thank you so much! I'm just getting back into writing and your comment made my day. I think it's a pretty universal feeling unless you're one of those totally unshakeable, crazy-confident people...but you just have to let go and enjoy the anxiety-free days when they come to you.
DeleteThese could be my words. I just came back from university. And for came back I mean that now I'm in my little village on the Italian east coast full of people I tried to avoid since high school. I hate go out here. I hate to not know if I have to say hi or not, if they remember who I am and if I'm sure to remember who they are. I just... hate this place.
ReplyDeleteI also live in a tiny village and I know how it feels to be unsure about who remembers you and who doesn't and whether you even want them to know who you are...but think about the life you're building away from all of that at university, which I'm sure is amazing! Also, on a coincidental note, I'm moving to the north east of Italy soon!
DeleteReally? Where?
DeletePadua. I'm going to study at the uni there :)
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