Tag Archives: self confidence

So I haven’t blogged in a couple of days..

But I have been writing.

I haven’t been able to find time to get to the computer so blogging has been limited. Most of my writing has been done old school.

Anyway, today I am having a complete confidence failure.

What if I’m late?

What if I’m early?

What if they’re pissed off because until I purchase my salon stuff all I have are maternity jeans, old t-shirts and trainers to wear?

What if they decide the outbreak on my chin is a hygiene fail?

What if one of my kids gets sick today?

What if I get sick today?

What if my period comes back and I don’t have pads?

What if my boobs become so painful I can’t take part?

What if my boobs spray milk everywhere DURING taking part?

What if O doesn’t eat before I go?

What if he needs feeding but refuses the bottle and spoon?

What if the milk I’ve expressed and lovingly cared for is sour?

What if they don’t like me?

What if I don’t like them?

What if I don’t like doing it?

What if I think positively for just a second?

What if it’s fabulous?

What if it changes my life?

What if I meet some wonderful people?

What if O takes the milk no problems?

Beauty Therapy?!

I’m going back to college on a Thursday to study massage.

I’m terrified.

It counts as a beauty therapy and I am about as far from a typical beauty therapy student as you can get.

I’m totally stereotyping here by the way and don’t have an issue with people who take pride in their appearance. It’s not that I don’t care about how I look…actually, it is.

You see, I have self confidence issues stemming from the way I look.  I hate my face. I hate my chin. I hate the spots I have constantly. So many years of hating my looks have made me apathetic about them. I do my own kind of ignorance pleading.

“I honestly didn’t know I looked like shit. You mean I haven’t shaved my legs in four months? Oh that? That hair on my chin? Yeah, it’s attached. I call it Fred.”

Years of being apathetic mean I rarely shave (my legs and pits. Never the face. Fred stays!), I don’t wear make up, I don’t care if O is sick on my shoulder. I constantly have some child related stains on my trousers and my hands are covered in pen.

When I do wear make up, I still put it on the same way I learnt at school when I was 14. I remember being taught how to scrape my hair back off my face into a tight bun and slapping on the foundation in the year 11 toilets. My mantra is “there is no such thing as too much eyeliner.”

I’m also one of those people who can wear a brand new suit and still look like they just wore it to bed.

It scares me. I want this. I want to pass and be professional. I want to do other things with this and I’m shitting myself that my looks will let me down.

Why things aren’t so bad

I feel like a bit of a fraud to be honest.  I spend a lot of my time thinking about how I personally, in my soon-to-be business and day-to-day life as a mother can help other women in the midst of PND.

I wanted to be strong, and living proof that you can come through it and be happy and a good mum and…I’m just not.

I really dislike posting melodramatic negative stuff because my future is actually full of really positive things, which I believe will help me to deal with the not so great stuff.  So it pains me to be constantly whining and melancholy here.

Because in all honesty, my life isn’t that bad at all.  I have two kids who are both bright and healthy and mostly happyish.  I have a loving, sex-starved partner.  Both sets of parents are super supportive and I have aunties and uncles and a brother who would do anything they could to help.  I have Mummies on tap 247 who can offer advice or virtual hugs and support and a lodger who loves my children.

I have a job.  Even though I hate said job, I have a job to go back to while I retrain.  I have a house.  It’s a nice house, a big, comfy house. I love my house.

I have a car and I have the ability to drive it anywhere…

So why am I still feeling tired and sick and anxious and stressed? I don’t feel like I have PND. It’s not dark here.  It’s slightly hopeless, and I’m scared, but I don’t hate myself or want to cut or feel tortured.  I’m not in a hole.  I don’t want to constantly run far far away.

But how can I help to heal others when I haven’t even manage to heal myself?  How can I help while I too am ailing?