Up, up and away!

Clinging on to him, even back then.

Today I helped my baby brother move to University.

It still feels surreal even typing it out.

I suppose now that he’s almost at the age of 20, I probably shouldn’t be referring to him as a baby, but I have a feeling that even when he’s 60 I’ll be picturing his big blue eyes and chubby cheeks instead of greying hair and wrinkled skin.

I think that’s what made it so difficult to say goodbye to him, because in my head I’m not saying goodbye to my brother who is now essentially an adult with his own independent will and a strength much greater than my own both mentally and physically (I know the latter part comes as no surprise to anyone, it wouldn’t take much to be stronger than the squishy noodles I have for arms), but instead a little boy who needs protecting from the big wide world.

“I’m worth what I convince myself to be.”

As briefly touched upon in my previous post, I do now in fact have a boyfriend.

This fact continues to baffle me on a daily basis, and can’t be as shocking to you as it was to my family who had already resigned me to a life of cats and hermitism, which let’s face it is still a very real possibility.

I only bring it up again because I recently remembered a comment one of my friends made when my relationship began. It was something along the lines of potentially writing a post, or making a video (which believe or not I’m less reliable at than writing this blog) about how now I had a boyfriend, I’d overcome my self esteem issues.

I can understand why she thought this was now the case, but after thinking about it for the past few hours (the curse of being stuck in my own company)  I’ve come to the conclusion that if anything, my self esteem is at times even more fragile than it was before.

“And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.”

With the new year comes an increase in gym memberships (at least for the month of January!), so many “new year, new me” posts that I’m surprised my eyes dont get stuck in the back of my head after all the eye rolling I’m guilty of, and people generally promising to be a better version of themselves than they were the year before.

I’m by no means casting aspersions against those that do choose to set themselves resolutions.

I wish I was that kind of person.

In case you couldn’t tell from how sporadic my posts have been this year, and the metaphorical tumbleweed that rolls past whenever I think about my blog, I’m not that great at sticking to goals generally that I set myself, let alone overarching ones that I’m supposed to adhere to all year.

Although I don’t actively have resolutions, there is one thing that I do continue to strive for in all areas of my life, and I’m almost positive I’ve mentioned it before on the blog, and that is happiness.

Before it’s misinterpreted, I am by no means unhappy.

Fear of Falling

I thought I knew what it felt like to be scared.

As the roller-coaster reaches its peak, and the ticking of the carriage climbing begins to slow and eventually stop, my heart falters as I force my eyes closed in terror, knowing the drop is soon to follow.

In that moment I can feel each beat of my heart pounding staccato, like a drum being conducted by a school child, still learning how to keep rhythm and tempo.

Or the sensation of those cliché butterflies, doing circuits around my stomach, as I’ve waited for important exam results and nervously anticipated interviews.

Now as I try to keep hold of something delicate in my hands, I wonder if I ever truly felt scared before.

Me, myself and I.

True to 22 year old Wynona, my first blog post as a 23 year old is somewhat overdue.

To make up for it though (or to give you all nightmares, you decide) I give you my first ever YouTube video *insert crowd noises here*.

It’s a bit awkward, but that’s apparently my aesthetic.

If I thought sharing my blog with people I knew IRL was scary, this is a whole other level altogether.

Go easy on me.

W.

Hooked On A Feeling

There aren’t always quantifiable reasons why we feel the way we feel.

This doesn’t necessarily make them any less justifiable than the ones that perhaps are more ‘understandable‘ i.e loss of a family member, being fired from a job, etc.

What becomes more difficult with this type of emotion though, is the ability to make somebody understand that this is simply the way you feel, regardless of it having no rhyme or reason.

I imagine that depression works almost in this way, at least for some people.

They can be happily married, have a successful job and enough money to live comfortably, whatever, just on the surface have everything going for them.

Beneath this stereotypical perception of happiness though is a deep sadness that they can’t always explain to themselves, let alone someone outside of their body.

The words used to describe feelings such as ‘happy’ or ‘sad’ might be universal but the actual feeling will always be unique to the individual.

You can be empathetic to someone and try to understand how they feel, but can you ever really say that you do know how they feel?

What feels one way for you might feel completely different to somebody else.

Something that should make you feel ‘happy’ like getting a new job might make you feel the opposite way, again for a reason you may not necessarily understand.

And that’s okay.

They remain unique to you, and so even if they don’t make sense to somebody else, that doesn’t make them any less valid.

W.