Tag: love

Yelly Writes

Stop outsourcing your self-worth!

Yelly

No one can diminish your worth without your permission. — Eleanor Roosevelt

Michelangelo’s David at the V&A by @yellywelly

If they choose to not see you for who you are, what your capabilities are, where your heart is, how you move in the world, that is on them. Whether they consciously choose to miss out on really knowing who you are as a person or they just walk past you, that is them missing out.

The harsh truth is that validation is a real human need. Because validation provides a human connection: the validation provides feedback that contributes to growth and development. The validation also provides a sense of trust because someone sees us. This same validation also provides a sense of safety: because we are seen, heard and accepted, we feel that we belong, we fit in, and that belongingness makes us feel safe.

But we need to remember that needing validation does not mean we have to hunt or chase for it externally — not all the time. It is a yardstick to measure against, but not to base our net worth on. External validation is superficial, fleeting, and variable. It changes like weather and climate – dependent on time and location. If you base your self-worth on how others see you, this will lead to heartbreak, stress, anxiety, and a need for so much therapy!

We have control of how we view ourselves. Our valuation has to start with us. We need to establish our own value, independent of how others perceive us. We need to believe in ourselves first. That self-trust, self-reliance, and self-awareness will make us strong and less vulnerable to outside judgment.

It is easier said than done. But the path to healing, self-awareness, and self-love is never easy or straightforward. We just need to keep going, guided by love and kindness.

Yelly Writes

The blurred lines of grief

Yelly

Healing is not linear — and neither are boundaries. — Unknown

A few weeks after my return from my mother’s memorial service, I met up with a few friends. I thought it would be a good experience to be around people. But one person kept asking me what happened on my trip, how I was feeling, if I was okay now, and if I could move on now. Up until that point, I thought I would be okay being around people. I wasn’t. I wanted to scream at this person, and I wanted to run away and cry.

I didn’t, of course. I am thankful I bit my tongue and prayed for my tongue to stick to the roof of my mouth so I wouldn’t say anything I couldn’t take back. I knew this person did not have the capacity to understand the depth and heft of my grief, because they hadn’t experienced the death of a parent, and really, because we all deal with situations differently. They were approaching me and my experience in the way they would if they were in the same situation. I behaved differently around this person after that. I didn’t feel like we were occupying the same spaces anymore. I know I may have judged too harshly after that experience, but I had to step away. I was too hurt. I don’t think they realised that they had wounded me so deeply. At the time, I didn’t have the capacity to explain what I was going through (that’s on me completely), but I knew that if I had opened my mouth, I would be caustic and say things I couldn’t take back.

Grieving and healing are both processes that involve ebbs and flows, with twists and turns. I think boundaries are the same. They shift and stretch depending on a person’s growth and capacity

Everything is a work in progress.

Yelly Writes

No is a complete sentence

Yelly
@yellywelly

Over-explaining yourself is often a sign that you don’t yet believe you have the right to your own limits. — Unknown

I’ve been in so many situations where I’ve felt that I had to explain myself, whether I felt compelled to or whether I was made to, I’ve found myself defending my decisions. It has been an automatic response and I always thought it was because, growing up, I was being taught accountability. Because when asked, I (was made to believe) had to be able to explain myself, I had to be able to articulate my answers to why questions. I’ve always joked that I had an overdeveloped sense of responsibility and I know inside me there’s this little girl still deathly afraid of disappointing people.

As I’ve been going through this healing journey, I’m starting to learn that apart from the fight or flight response that humans have, trauma survivors have a freeze or fawn response. The trauma is something else to unpack entirely and I’m not laying blame on anyone. I know I need to deal with it eventually. But I don’t think that day is today. I do understand and recognise that I fawn more than I freeze. I think I understood early on in my life that I needed to be hyper-compliant and that I had to learn to how to quickly soothe and please other people to diffuse potentially volatile situations, avoid conflicts and be safe. Part of this was me explaining my decisions, justifying my actions and answering the why questions to appeal to reason. I somehow believed that it was my responsibility to do that.

Sometimes you don’t necessarily owe anyone else an explanation because it doesn’t matter if you have a perfectly good reason for your decisions. And, sometimes you don’t have to say anything more than no. No is sometimes the only thing you have to say because it’s a complete sentence. You don’t have to explain why your boundary is where it is. They won’t necessarily explain themselves to you. So let them set that boundary, and you can also act accordingly.

Yelly Writes

Shifting Seasons of Loss: Grief, Waves and Personal Growth

Yelly
@yellywelly

Some days carry grief quietly. Tonight, let it speak, then let it rest. — Unknown

I’ve put off dealing with a lot of things – the inevitable grief that comes from losing both parents whom I love very dearly in a span of 4 years, the end of relationships that I thought would stand the test of time and personal growth, accepting burnout, and the need to step back from toxic environments. But my body and my mind had other plans. They both demanded that I stop and step back.

The Universe also conspired to give me the time to actually start dealing with everything. Things fell into place, and I had the time and space. Also, it was deal with things or basically unravel. I was deathly afraid of unravelling in public, and there were times when it was touch and go. I had to deal with what was going on in my head, my heart, my body, and my soul, or else I really would lose it in a way that I would find it hard to recover from.

One of the things I had to sit down and deal with was the unexpressed grief I’d been carrying with me for so long. It was eating away at me. I needed to sit down, open that box, and look inside.

Grief is never linear, and the process is not straightforward. There are peaks and troughs in the rhythms of grief. There are days when it hums quietly, almost unnoticeable in the background. There are days when it feels like it’s a loud, thundering wildebeest stampede, coming to trample you. Everyone’s experience of grief is different because we move through life differently. We weave through the stages of grief according to our own capacity and capability. And however we do that is okay. It is our individual journey.

Sometimes it will feel like you’re moving back and forth — rebuilding might mean you’re moving in reverse, like you’re facing an identity crisis before you reach a point of understanding. Sometimes you need a wave to crash over you and completely destabilise you so that you can reach a point where you’re stabilised and grounded, because you have a deeper understanding of yourself and what you’re going through.

It’s okay to wail and rail and to let out your grief. That’s part of it. Let it out. Let it shout. Express it. Then let yourself rest and recover.

Yelly Writes

Choosing to sit

Yelly

When you choose to be positive, you choose your future. — Unknown

Woke up way too early again on a Saturday morning. I have been working through a lot of personal stuff and the thoughts are noisy and intrusive. I’ve always loved Brené Brown’s advice to sit in the discomfort of one’s vulnerability, because exposure to discomfort builds tolerance and resilience. So I’m choosing to sit with the head full of noise. Picking out the strands that I can pick out will help, and telling myself those that I can’t can stay jumbled. They’re for sorting out another day.

@yellywelly

We’re told these days that we can choose our future, that we can control what happens to us. If we manifest using specific words, if we behave a certain way, if we one day decide to radically change our lives in pursuit of the future we want, if we eat less/more of certain foods…it all boils down to controlling something we haven’t even experienced yet.

The only thing we can control is how we react to our environment. We react to our environment through small daily actions that become routine and habitual. When things become routine, they become predictable. This is how you can predict the future.

“But predictable is boring!” I’m sure a lot of you will say. And to that I say, NO IT IS NOT! When we habitually strive to find joy, when we routinely try to look for the positive, it becomes second nature, it becomes part of who we are, and that’s how we bake positivity and hope into our future. When we choose to view everything as potentially filled with light and joy, we choose a future filled with exactly that. The future will always be an unknown quantity, but if we sit with the knowledge that, whatever it is, there will always be hope that it could be shining, shimmering, splendid, that is the exciting part of it all.

What small thing will you do today that your future self will thank you for?

Yelly Writes

Are we there yet?

Yelly

Success is a journey, and every single day is a beautiful mile. — Unknown

I’m going through quite an anxious period in my life. Because it feels like everything is up in the air and I don’t necessarily know which way is up. I have this list of (inspirational) quotes and, because I’m pedantic and persnickety (I also like old, interesting terms), I will go through the list, one item at a time, in order. I’m in the section of my quotes that seems to be one quote after another about success. It’s making me anxious because, what have I got to say about success? My current situation feels more like a disaster, and so far removed from success.

But okay, let’s not make this about me. Or at least, let’s try.

What is your definition of success? Some people are planners, and success is ticking off items on a list to get to the end of a project. Some people are thinkers, and success is finally arriving at a conclusion after testing ideas. Some people are creatives, and success is finally breathing life into a body of work. But all this is success in relation to productivity. For some people, there is no need to produce; success is being able to have a good day, to have a chance to laugh, to breathe, to just be.

Is it just me, or does society these days focus on having something to point to, where we say, “I made that!” It just feels like we’re on this perpetual hamster wheel of production. It feels like everything has become a commodity and the measure of success relates to a list of assets, and in order to build that list, one has to either produce or acquire.

I enjoy pace and I enjoy the challenge of finding solutions right away. I know I can sprint along with the best of them. But lately, I’ve been feeling exhausted. I’ve been questioning the constant need to chase…everything. Maybe this is why I feel so lost, so disconnected. Maybe I’m missing being able to have time and space. Because while I know I can do things quickly and efficiently, I like to be able to process, at a pace that is my own, in an environment that is less frenzied and frantic. But when success is only measured by what you can show for yourself, the journey — the wrestling, the questioning, the becoming — gets dismissed as inefficiency. But that part of the journey is where the real work happens.

Have we forgotten to appreciate the time it takes to travel? Have we forgotten that the journey isn’t just merely arriving at the destination? Have we forgotten that it’s the experiences between departure and arrival that make the journey? That’s where the lessons are learned. That’s where the memories are made. That’s where the experience is created, where expertise is gained. Because while you have a destination in mind, the things that happen in between change where you get to.

Yelly Writes

Love is in the small things

Yelly

Love and its expressions are so individual. Some use words. Some use action. It is as individual and unique as the person expressing it. There are different depths, different intensities, different levels, different kinds of love.

I’ve come to realise that love is in the small things. It’s in the way they say I’m thinking of you without saying it out loud. It’s in the small considerations. It’s in the small inconveniences they allow because you matter more to them than the disregulation they’ll feel. It’s in the small, fleeting touches, the side looks, in the involuntary smiles. It’s in the way they let you see them and their vulnerabilities. It’s in the small but dependable, almost habitual consistency. It’s how they are present for you, and not just by being there physically.

I am not, by any means, discounting the showy outpouring expressions of love. Yes, love is also in the grand gestures, in the wonderful, audible proclamations, the generous gift-giving, and the opening-of-the-floodgates intensity of expression. While the out-loud expressions can be performative because of societal expectations, there are the small, telltale signs that there was thought in the actions, and that you were the sole focus of the action.

When you are truly loved, you know. You feel it.

Love begets love. You need to trust that it does. Because it will.

@yellywelly
Yelly Writes

The True Love Test

Yelly

So I watched The Life List on Netflix again, and, of course, I bawled like a baby! I promise no spoilers, especially if you haven’t seen it. It’s the kind of girly romance movie that presents an idealized, pre-packaged view of love and romantic relationships. I’m not a cynic, not by a long shot (I’ve read too many Julia Quinn novels several times over to be jaded), to be cynical about love, even after the implosion of a relationship that I thought would last forever. I do sometimes smirk at the sugar coma sweetness of the Hallmark Channel formula movies. But the “true love test” in the movie had me thinking. In the film, it said that if you could answer yes to each of the 4 questions below, it was TRUE LOVE. 

1  Are they kind?

2 Can you tell them everything that’s in your heart?

3 Do they help you become the best version of yourself? 

4 Can you imagine them as the father/mother of your children? 

The questions make me smile. Because I can hear myself saying to someone at 25, “Love isn’t just a feeling, it’s a decision.” and seeing their look of confusion (in hindsight, that should’ve been a red flag, but I ignored it) and me patiently explaining what I meant.

Love is a decision. It’s a commitment. Because you decide, for better or for worse (whether it involves the permanency of marriage or not), to love this person, in the good and bad days, when tempers flare and patience wanes, when the sickness is disgusting, when the ick is hard to shift and when disagreements happen. It’s a commitment to stay and work things out, even when things get tough, damnedly uncomfortable and when they don’t particularly look rosy. It’s a promise to stay. It’s a vow to work on improving, changing for the better, and growing together. It’s saying “I got you” to this person and really having them, making sure they know you have them. It’s a pledge to stay accountable to this person. It is an unwritten but very binding contract to work through the warts, farts and smarts that come with adult relationships.

Being loved is an intrinsic need because it encapsulates affection, respect, acceptance, protection, and accountability. Every person has a deep-seated need for it, whether they care to admit it. Love isn’t easy but if you have it, wouldn’t you want to hold on to it, nurture it and cultivate it?

@yellywelly

Yelly Writes

Year 2

Yelly

To lose someone you love is the very worst thing in the world. It creates an invisible hole that you feel you are falling down and will never end. People you love make the world real and solid and when they suddenly go away forever, nothing feels solid any more.

Matt Haig

Today is my Abba’s second-year death anniversary, and yet this morning, I woke up and felt absolutely heartbroken again. I think the pain was different this year because this was the first year I was completely alone in remembering him. I’m sure his siblings thought about him today, and I’m sure Mama and my siblings touched his urn and lit a candle, but this year, I was completely alone with my thoughts without a memorial service to organise and wake up for.

I know my mom thinks about him every day – I mean how could she not – they were together for more than 50 years, and solidly together for 7 years when my father fell ill because she was his primary carer. I cannot imagine the depths of her pain and how much she misses him. But this morning, I felt absolutely heartsick and I cried like a child because I missed my father so much.

I know the void that my father’s passing has created in my life will never be filled. I need to remember to give myself time – time to come to terms with my father’s death (because I don’t think I’ve properly grieved), time to heal, time to allow the pain to shift. I know the pain will always be there but it will feel differently eventually.

@yellywelly