#BlogLife1000 - Milestone the big thousand blogaversary

I'm just not sure what to write for the thousandth edition of BlogLife, how did we even get here?

Have I grown and matured as a person and a writer? I think so, I hope I've evolved.

I think the one constant has been my insecurities, I can't shake them, although I have bouts of self assurances but it doesn't last long.

I finally got around to measuring myself, I didn't do bust, just hips and waist and there wasn't much of a difference, a few more inches off.

Altogether though since I started this journey I think from 2022, I've lost 12 inches, is that a lot in 4 years?

I'm not sure but I've definitely gone down a lot of dress sizes. I probably haven't gone down another size, so still 2 stones to lose but I'm still moving in the right direction.

It's becoming less effort now after all the tips and tricks I've learned that work for me.

With some posts I write them ahead but with the milestones I kinda wait for the day and see what pops out.

I need brain food, maybe that will inspire me, it's just gone 12pmish and now I feel hungry so I'm cooking a cheese quiche and some chicken kebabs to go on the side.

And of course munching crisps, impatiently waiting for it to be done, I can't even remember the cooking times..

I was looking up old tv shows to watch in the evening to relax, music and asmr can be for the daytime but for the night, I tend to prefer having some show on while I'm gaming..

It just ends up making me sleepy and cosy and puts me at ease before I go to bed.

3rd Rock From The Sun and Alf ended up being contenders. I didn't realise that was his son in the show.

Ugh I can't even remember the names. Is it old age? I feel like my memory has never been strong though.

Mainly up to my thirties maybe, I was all about taking the multivitamins, trying to get my hair and nails luxurious and longer and now I don't take any supplements.

It was nice having long hair to play with, I just didn't know what to do with it, left loose it seemed messy.

A bun seemed boring, plaits and ponytails were unadventurous.. No matter what I did, it just hung there..

Even way before I got sick, my hands got tired from trying to style it and make it look trendy.

I wrote poetry, but it rhymed, it wasn't below the surface of how I was really feeling, it was just contained thoughts.

I wasn't equipped for anything more than that. I even doodled dress designs because what I saw in stores was limited and unattractive and when I wore it, I wasn't pleased.

All these were very basic forms of expression. I liked art and drawing, I managed some things and completely tanked others.

I was trying to find my way. I liked being in the school choir, I just couldn't hold a tune.

I think I was afraid for the longest time to do what I really craved which was composing fiction.

I knew it was going to be a disaster so I shelved it for as long as I could because I wanted to excel at it, not just be acceptable.

Maybe there were other stories I wrote, I cannot think but the first story I wrote that really made me embarrassed and proud was for a College assignment.

I don't know if it was a substitute Teacher but we were told to write a short but lengthy story.

I had no idea what subject to pick and I think at that point, the nightmares were quite prominent in my life.

So I based it on that, the recurring one of being chased and lost and almost nabbed.

And I still remember to this day, not knowing how to conclude it, because it was flowing for the first time ever, I think..

So maybe it was 2 pages both sides of an A4 paper and I know because everyone else's was a few paragraphs and the Teacher held mine up and said.....

This is the length it should have been. I don't know if it was read out, I just remember sinking into my seat and my face turning various shades of pink, red, purple..

And mumbling, it's not like it's any good, I just couldn't seem to end it.

I think I was pleased with how it came out, very descriptive but I had grown up feeling like a fool and people were hammering that home to me so whatever I did, didn't seem smart enough..

That was the only story my Mama read and she loved it, said I should submit it somewhere but it seemed like a fraction of a piece not the whole thing.

I dismissed the praise and sometime before or after tried a story for myself but it wouldn't come alive, not like the nightmare one.

For that one I pretended I was that person walking home, being scared out of my wits and it helped.

So that first story I forgot about or put it down to being a fluke, never to be recreated..

But it was satisfying or maybe I was relieved, it was late and my brain hurt.

I guess my point is, it took me a long time to believe in myself and not be as afraid to show the world who I was, am, and strive to be..