What my 5k run taught me about commitment

Yesterday I ran my first 5k in over ten years. It was a big deal for me. I’d run 10k three times a week in my 20s. My early 30s saw me struggle with depression and paralysis, meaning I was inactive a majority of the time. Reaching that finish line signalled the start of a new relationship with myself and I was ready for it.

It wasn’t easy mind you, but I did it. Made it happen. I wanted to stop and walk but pushed through. Gave myself a firm taking to. I’d decided that to be worthy of saying I ran the distance, that would involve me not walking at any point. Which, so far in training, I hadn’t yet accomplished.

I crossed that finish line without stopping.

This year I’d had enough. I’d had enough of my own bullshit. Letting myself down again and again and feeling the weight of my own inaction suffocating me. It was time to push past the narrative I’d conditioned my mind to believe. So that’s what I did. No more ‘I’ll do it tomorrow’ – it was now.

I signed up for a beginners cohort with a local running club. I knew nobody. I felt anxious turning up to the quiet carpark besides the canal alone. Yet I was here on day one, at least willing to kick start the rest of my new life. It was tough. I couldn’t run for longer than a minute and felt frustrated that I’d let myself get to this point.

I persevered, week after week showing up with the group. Running a little bit further than the week previous. Homework runs became priority. Being an active participant allowed me to receive support. I was making headway and enjoying the process.

Regular running on a Sunday morning and once weekly led me to my first proudest moment in week seven. I ran an entire twenty minutes on my own without stopping. I was ecstatic! How is this possible! I felt awash with pride, tears and a surge of happiness that took me to another level mentally. That day, my mindset clicked into a new space and I was ready to believe I could. I unlocked a part of me that had been dormant and lurking. I found her.

When I passed that finish line, collecting my race time and graduation medal, I realised I’d come a long way. Not only in my fitness, but in myself. The woman I’d become and began identifying with wasn’t a part of who I was or am. I created her to fit in. To accept she couldn’t be happier. That the old version had gone and this is it. Tough. You can’t run. You can’t fight depression. You can’t lose weight. You can’t make your dreams come true. So crossing that finish line symbolised so much more than running a race. Capability within consistency. I moved mountains in my mind, body and soul. It was my own becoming and undoing.

Choosing to commit to yourself changes everything. I wrote about this in a previous post titled: “10 Ways to Practice Self Love for Positive Change.” When you start, know it’s not going to be easy. There are bridges to cross. Mountains to climb. Yet, if you show up time after time, you’ll look back and see the bridge in the far distance. The mountain will no longer be as high because you’re already half way up.

It was never meant to be easy. Leaving the “you” behind that you’ve grown comfortable with. Who believes all thoughts about change being impossible.

Yet, you have a choice. I had a choice. To see each day slip by. Living the same year over and over until one day, you live with the realisation you can’t undo your regrets.

You have a choice: Make excuses or break through the mould you’ve built around yourself. You’re only a prisoner of your own limits.

So it’s time to say yes to possibilities. To show up for yourself and feel what it’s like to live for yourself. Not within pages of books or other people’s success stories.

Action and inspiration cannot marry unless you pursue them in tandem. Being inspired isn’t enough when you still remain a closed door to yourself. Being inspired but not taking action leaves you in a dream. Taking action won’t last if you’re not inspired by what drives you. You cannot amplify other peoples successes and gain the same feeling of euphoria.

You have a choice. Show up for YOU. Commit to YOU. Choose YOU.

Life is a short journey. We don’t have forever. One day could be tomorrow, yet tomorrow is always a day away. Make today count.

I know now I can start by making the decision to show up. Thereafter, it’s commitment. If I can choose to show up and not let myself down, I can’t fail. Neither can you.

The question is, what are you going to do now?

Until next time,

Bella x

You can follow my ‘Muse’ letter for updates on blog posts, inspiration, Self, discovery and more here.

10 Ways to Practice Self Love For Positive Change

Never believe things will work out because, well, this is you after all? ‘We accept what we think we deserve’ is a saying well known, yet not entirely well understood. Self love isn’t all about lapping up Champagne in a 5* spa. It’s about working on yourself to encompass who you want to be. The version of you you’re in love with exists right now. You already may be with her or there’s a little weeding needed to uncover the bud that is yet to bloom. 

I’ve written up 10 ways you can focus on the self love that will support you as you lather up in bubbles and pop the cork. They’re not mutually exclusive. You can journal in the bathtub or listen to a podcast. 

Combat Jealousy

Jealousy is a driver fuelled by bitterness. Wonderful. More often that not jealousy shows you what you desire; in a form somebody else possesses. Jealousy in simple terms is the perfect mirror to realise and direct you toward what you actually want. Notice when you feel the fire and write down what it brings up. Jealousy is usually hidden potential, seeing others living a truth you won’t because you don’t love yourself enough to fully commit. Understand that you can have everything when you choose to put yourself first. Buy a journal and do the work. 

Schedule in your period

Take time out for your body to just be. Schedule rest time. Get intentional about it. Women used to congregate to menstruate together as moments to honour their bodies. The times of the month you feel you have zero energy and want to hide under blankets eating chocolate and watching your favourite series? Do it. Socialising can wait. Listen and tune back into the magic of your body. It’s your saving grace.

Learn to say no

Say no. Theres a full stop at the end of that sentence too. You don’t have to be be ‘mean’ or ‘rude’ or even shun anybody. Learn to say no in a way that works for you. When you continue to put yourself second in line, you’re causing a rift of emotions inside yourself because you’re in a state of silent resentment. Nobody wins here. This isn’t about being selfish, it’s about creating boundaries that protect your energy and time. 

Get into alignment

This is life changing. Learn how to get into alignment and don’t sway from it. Every action you take should bring you another step forward towards the life you truly want to live. Actions and choices otherwise will make you miserable. You can find some fabulous podcasts about how to get yourself into alignment. I personally love listening to Gabby Bernstein and another fabulous unapologetic wonder woman is Cara Alwill. Learn from those who choose themselves every single day.

Journal Journal Journal

Whether you put pen to paper or write in your phone on your notes. Whatever it is – journal! Process how you feel by acknowledging feelings instead of masking. Rip the plaster off and let it heal. The rest of your life will be dictated by the foundations you refuse to take care of. Brain dump every thought and get it out of your mind so it can release and allow you to find a state of calm balance. Learn to be intrigued by yourself. Create a moment in your day to reflect. This is soul happy work; even if at times it does break your heart.

Moisturise

Simple yet effective. Moisturise your body after a shower. Massage your face. Add essential oils in a steaming hot bath. Place scented candles around the bath and soak into pure bliss. Your body deserves to be pampered. It does a lot for you. It’s incredibly special. Plus, I always find it quite uplifting to feel like a Pinterest goddess now and then. 

Keep your word…TO YOU

Low self-esteem is often attributed to breaking promises we made to ourselves. Oh, I did it again. When you get up for that run, stick to that sugar detox or (insert your thing) – you’ll feel accomplished. Learn to love yourself enough you decidedly make an effort. 

Search within

Search inwards, not outwards. Nobody has your answers, except you. “Advice is what we ask for when often we know the answer, yet wish we didn’t” – Quote by unknown but I’ve lived by it since my early 20s. Everything you ever wanted exists within you. Intuition is your guidance system. Meditate. Shut out the outside noise. Go within. When you understand you’re the only person who can make your decisions, your whole world changes. 

Buy yourself something

In a world where we provide for others so abundantly, this is your permission slip to go buy yourself something you’ll enjoy. A new dress. A beautiful set of lashes. A day at the spa. Football tickets. A vibrator. A car. Whatever makes you smile. Material assets are A-OK to have fun with!

Get creative 

Let go of the idea of being anything (good/bad/amateur/messy) and have fun in the doing. Let your mind wander. Dip the paints. Write a story. Muse over poetry. Sing loudly. There are no parameters for creativity and when you judge yourself you create barriers of distaste. Don’t do yourself out of utter enjoyment for the sake of worrying over nothing. 

I could go on. This list isn’t exhaustive by all means. I wanted to add ‘take a moment to explore your body’ but I think that’s in next weeks post…

So by all means buy your favourite bath bombs and pop a strawberry in a glass of bubbly, but remember your journey is a voyage to freedom. Instead of buying too much into self-love remedies that line pockets, invest in the real subject and sail those rocky waters. I chose to stop making excuses and I’m 3 weeks en-route to the life I’ve been waiting for. All it took was for me to show up for myself, one step a time. 

Practice self love and it will transform your life in ways you had no idea could even be possible. 

Let me know how you get on.

Until next time,

Bella x

P.s I created a beautiful self love journal you can print immediately. Don’t make it hard to start. 

What Sex in my 20s Taught Me – Part Four

It’s not all about you. 

I cannot tell you how many times my mum told me this growing up. In fact, she still does and I’m sitting comfortably as a mid 30-something. Let’s say it’s a mixture of extreme sensitivity whipped up with much of my own perspective. Naturally we only know what we know. Feel what we feel. See what we see. It’s not a fantastic tasting concoction but I’m aware of it, which is a start. The thing is, I cruised through my 20s steering these experiences of lust, danger and bodily advantages focussed on driving forwards. It wasn’t until many years later, as I look back through the rearview mirror, I noticed the backlog of subconscious lingerers. 

Those people are the guys I wrote about. The guys I didn’t write about.

There’s a few lessons in this for all of us, if you’d care to take a seat. 

LESSONS:

1. Every guy I hooked up with has their own version of me, in that moment. I have no idea what that is, I likely never will. Same goes for you. You exist in their minds as a memory attached to a feeling. That feeling could render you a goddess or a monster. That’s for them to decide. Not you. No amount of over-thinking will change their perception. 

1. I definitely sucked in the bedroom and not in the literal sense of partaking in the act. I was highly likely a shit shag on one or maybe many encounters and probably didn’t even make the little black book as a worthy brag right. It is what it is. 

1. I used to be a confident, spritely young lady with boobs that stayed where they were when I took my bra off, skinny privilege and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I believed I got what I wanted; now I realise they got what they wanted in equal measure. I was never the winner. Check mate.  

1. I never much liked being held at arms-length. On reflection I held 90% of guys at arms length and never let them into my personal world. The mirror you hold reflects right back at you. 

1. Emotions were relative. I thought about my own, rarely theirs (in an un-selfish way as we do when the tides are high) and upon consideration, I seemed to have been lacking the insight to see they too, may have felt things. It’s not always about you. We all have shit to deal with in life. 

What I’m trying to say is that yes, I have my own experiences and they are absolutely valid; but it’s not until I did a fuck tonne of personal development work in my early 30s that I started to see the world in a way I never did in my 20s. 

We only know our own existence through the eyes of ourselves. We understand only the presence within ourselves. Our emotions are felt by us alone. When you’re blissfully unaware that others also have a unique, individual experience, our worlds become centred solidly in one belief; that we are always right because our reality is based on circumstances we translate into facts. So I learnt that some guys probably had stuff going on that wasn’t about me, that I made about me in my own mind. I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about.

So my friends, sex in my 20s taught me many lessons. 

What lessons did they teach you?

Until Next time,

Bella x

p.s You can read the first three parts in my mini series “What sex in my 20s taught me” here

Part one: My body was the main attraction

Part two: Lust, love and sexual chemistry

Part three: The bad guys

You can find me over on Instagram here: @Thebellaeffectblog 

What Sex in my 20s Taught Me – Part Three

The bad guys.

TW – Sexual assault, threatening behaviour

Ok, so the title makes it sound like a film but in reality, I don’t have any other way to describe a collective of god awful guys who I had sex with. I mean, there are better words but this does what it says on the tin. I wiped the bitterness away when I took my power back and no longer let their actions defy my meaning. So ‘bad guys’ can carry the story. 

While I can sit here for days writing about the most superficial sexual experiences, to the deeper, darker details of the more sinister plot twists, I’ll ride the waves and give a surface level account. 

Bad guys come in all shapes and forms. We’ve all met them. We all bank them differently too. I’m pretty sure some of them know their agenda; make that certain. He loves me he loves me not. What is it about knocking you right out of confidence that makes them able to crack a smile? How about the tornado of cyber bullying that has you not sleeping as they create a thousand fake accounts to leave fucking disgusting messages on your profile for the world to see while you sleep? I mean, it’s 4am? Let’s not forget the ones you thought were your friends, and years later it clicks that yes, you were drunk, unable to move, yet he undresses you and does what he does anyway? 

Sex with the bad guys sometimes leaves us feeling inadequate, questioning our own sanity or living in fear.

It’s madness when I look back. I always remember at the time never even really liking this one guy. I had zero sexual attraction to him. It only lasted a few months. Nothing serious or even near. He was a bit of an arrogant one actually. His front room looked liked world war 17 had broken out and I couldn’t stand to be in there. So one day he went out and I thought I’d spruce it up. I’m not a cleaner either so this was how much it pained me to see the sight of it. 3 hours it took for the front room and kitchen. I kid you not, he walked in and didn’t even acknowledge it was tidy, let alone a thank you. This was month one of casual sex. Which wasn’t even good and when I did ask for some he told me he had to go to B&Q and to be grateful I had some the night before. Cringe. 

Anyway, he grated on my nerves in a way only men with…never mind. So the crunch came when I was feeling low in my life and he told me he was fed up with my negativity bringing him down *points from the ceiling to the floor* and that money is the only worry in this life. That was the last time I saw him when I told him to leave. 

Lesson learnt: I am not here to gratify somebody else’s existence. I do not accept mediocre. I am not a possession. 

What about the time I hooked up with a guy who I knew was not a dreamer, a lover nor a match for me? I did it again. Another one bites the dust. Still working out why I made this mistake so many times but I’ll come back to you on that. Where was I… oh yes, so I had a crush on a guy who I thought was way to cute for me. He was dreamy and a lover and… I ended up in the sack with another guy in the group. Went on for a few months. Mostly because I was young and bored and the group dynamic was fun. He was messing with other girls. Blah blah blah. The issue arose when I decided it was done for me. I wasn’t interested, I was depressed in the situation and I wanted out. The guy wasn’t even fussed about me it was such a casual fling. It’s the ego and the pride that hurts the most when you don’t know how to let somebody move on because they “shoved you in the gutter.” So for the next year I endured horrific threats to the point I had to change my number because he would get new sims every time I blocked one. Messages on my Facebook from fake accounts left in places I couldn’t make private, showcasing truly disturbing paragraphs of anger and accusations. From sex to death threats.

Lesson learnt: I will report harassment immediately. I was not the problem. Don’t have sex with guys I don’t feel right with. 

Friendships with guys are always questionable unless you are completely on the same page. I’ve always been told boys and girls can’t be friends. I’ll keep this one short. I met a friend, and I mean a friend, for a night out. I had no want to sleep with him. I found him funny, I was in the area and thought a few drinks and a catch up would be fabulous. The room booked was a double and I was annoyed it wasn’t a twin but he was my friend and I knew nothing was going to happen. So I thought. 

All I remember was laying there at the end of the night unable to move as he undressed me and proceeded to have sex with me. I was aware it was happening but I couldn’t move. It wasn’t aggressive. I didn’t get to say no. I thought that was my fault for years for drinking too much. I can’t say if I was drunk or if I was drugged – but I didn’t say yes and I couldn’t defend myself. 

I’m not saying guys and girls can’t be friends, but when this situation presents itself it’s a huge problem. He assumed because I was female I was “up for it.” He assumed wrongly. That’s not a friendship. 

Lesson learnt – I choose who has access to my body. Report anybody who ever does this to me again. It’s not my fault. 

As a 30 something who advocates for charities against domestic abuse and disadvantages for being a woman, it’s taken me over a decade to accept I was never at fault for many situations in my 20s. I could have been more aware, I could have been a million more things but above all, that doesn’t give the bad guys the right to not only treat me that way, but no doubt many others the way they deem acceptable. 

Sex with the bad guys taught me so many lessons.

Who we share our energy with is a big deal. Who we spend our time with is a big deal. Having boundaries with your body is a big deal. You can read my last post about chemistry and how important it is to connect with somebody – instead of taking anybody for the ride. You get to choose. We get to choose. 

I know you have your stories, regardless of the details, they leave an imprint in our minds and on our lives. The bad guys don’t win. They were simply a lesson that shaped our choices in the future. 

If you feel you need a little support after reading this, please do reach out to Refuge or your local domestic abuse service. Women’s centres are also wonderful spaces to pop into for non-judgemental advice or to talk. I promise you they are all there to support and believe. 

Next week is the final piece in my four part series ‘What sex in my 20s taught me’ and I’ll be sharing the flip side of the coin…what I did between the sheets in my 20s.

Until next time

Bella x

©TheBellaEffect2023

What Sex in my 20s Taught Me – Part Two

Lust, love and sexual chemistry.

Chemistry. The sexual kind. I wondered how I’d write this. I can’t delve into detail because, I don’t know about you, it’s rare. I’d be giving away too much personal information and of course, what happens between two people should stay between two people. Sex when you have that undeniable tug of desire is indescribable. Not to be confused with ‘happy ever afters.’ 

 I muddled chemistry as a teenager for that lustful, sweaty, heart wrenching feeling of utter obsession that comes with having an intense crush on a guy in the tiny world of school. I’ll be totally transparent and admit I had sex with these guys over a million times, whilst they sat across the room in Design and Technology and probably didn’t even know my name. That’s what I thought chemistry was. One sided and never reciprocated. So when I eventually got a long term boyfriend, I accepted it was easier to find somebody who liked me more and who I didn’t find attractive, because then he would like me more, right? 

I soon entered my twenties. I left school, left the boyfriend who made me cringe and I found it. Twice. I found that heart-pumping, skin tingling sexual attraction that made me sweaty and in need of fresh knickers a second into locking eyes. My entire body felt it. The rush. The knowing. The sparks. I never knew I’d find it when I did. It was mind-blowing to have that instant connection. This is one of the rare moments you feel without a shadow of a doubt it’s a shared experience. I drank in the feeling of euphoria. The deep yearning to take him in the bedroom and inside me. I wanted to spend hours exploring his body and giving him mine. I wanted it all. I never wanted to leave. 

This sexual chemistry thing happened to me twice. Once, it turned into a mini love story. The other saw me in a situation we couldn’t stay away from each other; no matter how hard we tried (even though we should have stayed away.)

My first lesson was that chemistry can be more than physical. It can be the first time you realise you’re worthy of the best kind of love. Everything you thought only other people were lucky enough to find. He was so incredibly attractive; treated me like a princess and I felt like the most beautiful girl in the entire world. The thing with chemistry when it turns into love, is that it’s never a promise of permanent. I learnt how I wanted to feel when I was with this guy. That great sex is about connection and foreplay of the emotions. The standard I set for the rest of my life when I met my future fuck buddies, boyfriends, had spontaneous sex or indeed was lucky enough to encounter chemistry once more. It laid the foundations and anything less can go back within 14 days. 

While this was my first mini-love story, it wasn’t to be forever. The chemistry remained but life dug my path one way as his cleared room in the opposite direction. Our journeys were different. Things changed. We changed. Until that was it it. Time for goodbyes. 

My second lesson felt to me like an intense ride of pure sexual attraction fuelled by the chemistry of sex and banter. This one felt naughty, which of course led to us being naughty. It set the tone and I felt alive. We had sex in his car a lot. I sneaked into his house when it was all clear from prying eyes. We dated on and off. Falling out and not speaking. Hooking up again. Falling out. Him getting a girlfriend. Me getting a boyfriend. Us jumping back into bed when we’d broken up with them (or on his side, not breaking up with them.) I had no boundaries with him and I was drawn to the energy between us. 

Basically, I couldn’t keep my knickers on.

There comes a point when you don’t want to be the ‘hot chick on the side who gives me blow jobs and drops her knickers when I call.’ Regardless of the chemistry, it wasn’t fun anymore when it became apparent he wanted the ‘girlfriend’ over the ‘chemistry.’ I couldn’t be the red head amongst the blondes any longer.

What I did next wasn’t my greatest achievement in life but that’s a story for a rainy day. 

What did I learn about chemistry as a 20 something?

1) Lust isn’t chemistry. It’s the longing for what isn’t returned.

2) Chemistry doesn’t always equal love or respect. You can feel a connection but it doesn’t make them your soul-mate. 

3) Having sex when there’s chemistry between you is the most intense feeling you’ll ever feel between the sheets (and your legs.)

4) Chemistry is rare. 

5) Love is a by-product of chemistry. It connects the physical to the emotional when it’s at it’s deepest. 

This isn’t a post I’ve written that was difficult. It inspired my 20s and I’m glad I had these moments. The good shapes our expectations, desires and lays the foundations for what we really want from our romantic relationships. This isn’t exclusive to me being a 20 something; you will find throughout your one, beautiful life that you too have, or will yet find that chemical attraction with somebody. The sexual attraction that is undeniable. 

I hope you find chemistry. I hope you’ve found it. I hope you settle for nothing less than your wild, passion filled romance. I hope you experience the full body orgasms; like you’re melting into each other as you kiss.

You can join the conversation over on my social media and leave your thoughts in the comments. Share your experiences. Let me know how you relate.

Next week, in part three of my four part series ‘What sex in my 20s taught me’ I’ll be writing about ‘The Bad Guys.’ The parts of the experience you wish you could take back. The kind that take your self-worth and play paper aeroplanes with it in the rain. 

Until next time,

Bella x

What sex in my 20s taught me – part one

My body was the main attraction

I decided to write this series when I had a moment to think back over the many blogs I’d written sat in my local Starbucks. A signature hot chocolate and a shortbread keeping me company. Laptop out, I’d dream away an afternoon reminiscing about the sex I’d recently had and tried to turn it into a “isn’t my life so Sex-in the City-“ type of read. I wanted to be exciting. I also wanted to make sure I didn’t offend, so I wasn’t always completely truthful when re-telling my adventures about being naked with a guy.

I realised as a 30 some-thing I needed to re-approach these promiscuous encounters and take away the valuable lessons each one taught me. Lessons in sex = less faux orgasms. 

The first lesson was the most obvious. That most guys I shared my body with were after that and that alone. That’s fine because it was likely I returned that exchange. There weren’t many guys who blew my socks off, it was mostly about having fun and “why not?” as I was single and, well, why not right? 

Fun in the bedroom I now realise should be fun. 90% of my encounters started with a message on Facebook, a few text messages and ended in a shag. A bit like a shit porno you’ve watched so many times you start to notice the camera guy in the reflection of the kitchen window.

I knew they were after the visual because they either flat out told me how “fit” I was and mentioned something about wanting their head between my legs, or they weren’t looking for anything serious (neither was I, I hasten to add.) I don’t re-call that many questions being asked about me either. Flaps before flattery. 

When it’s all about the looks, fun in the bedroom really isn’t that much fun. Don’t get me wrong here – there has been one encounter where chemistry was intense, attraction came with a weather warning and sex was good. There was an element of enjoyment in each others presence though. We laughed a lot and went on dates/had drinks often. However, what I failed to realise with my hook-ups was that fun (I’m not on my own when I say that includes an orgasm to finish up, am I?) was a one-sided mirror and it wasn’t facing my way. 

Sex was never intuitive. It was a copy of a porn episode where a woman is touched the same way, in the same places with the same expected outcome. It was a performance. I’ll be open about the fact that I faked a whole lotta orgasms. I’m not proud of that either. I should have simply said it wasn’t working for me. I didn’t. I was part of the production. A script that barely served it’s purpose. 

Since reflecting, it didn’t take me long to understand that when sex was about my body, it was average. It was never about pleasing me, more than it was for them to alleviate ‘Blue Balls.’ That’s OK. I’m not writing this to shame anybody, equally I would have been reaching for a happy ending and I won’t lose sleep over that. I’ve no doubt in my mind that I have been a let down and, quite frankly, that’s OK too. 

So what did I learn about my body being the main attraction?

1) Just because a guy thinks you’re hot, doesn’t mean he cares about you. 

2) My body was the end goal; not me. 

3) I wasn’t the only girl he was sleeping with or messaging. 

4) Sex doesn’t fill the gap of intimacy.

5) Sex was quite dull; it was never about ensuring my enjoyment.

I’m not strictly speaking about every encounter I had in my 20’s. I had good sex. I had bad sex. Sex with guys I had zero attraction to. I chose guys through ego instead of lust. Sex with guys because I was single and so were they. It was mostly meaningless. Empty. Basic. 

Looking back, I wish I had been more selective. I wish I hadn’t believed being attractive meant guys liked me for more than my body. I wish I sought out the chemistry that made my skin tingle and heart beat faster. I wish I said ‘no’ more than I did. I wish I didn’t fake it and let them think they satisfied me. I wish I knew I was worth more than my body. 

Take the lessons and apply them accordingly.

In the second part of this series “What sex in my 20s taught me” I’m reflecting on the extremely rare phenomenon that is chemistry. I was fortunate to have experienced this twice and we’re taking it up a notch. The shiver when your eyes meet. The anticipation of touch. The electricity when you kiss. The full body orgasms. It’s all happening. 

I know this will speak to women in their 30s, 40s 50s and beyond. This isn’t exclusive to my freedom years. If you have any experiences of your own about your body being the main attraction, you’re welcome to share in the comments below or join me over on my social media to have the conversation. 

Life is one huge experience. Embrace the lessons, bank the knowledge and remember your body IS NOT the main attraction.

Until next time,

Bella x

©The Bella Effect 2023

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Reflections on Rejection

Rejection:

“a person or thing dismissed as inadequate or unacceptable.”

Writing is my personal therapy. You’re basically reading my diary with permission. I often write through emotion or when I’ve had too much wine and out pops a great story. This time it’s emotion without the wine, so it’s a real thought provoker.

Dear diary, I feel rejected…

When I was younger, going back to my teenage years and early to mid 20s, I always took rejection  personally. It was like being hit in the face with a shovel and then buried to hide the worthlessness. I always thought it meant I wasn’t good enough/pretty enough/clever enough etc. Shamed and cast away because somebody else was better than I was. It’s that feeling isn’t it, the one that burns up your face, makes you feel cold and tightens your tummy. “I’m not good enough am I?”

Now I’m in my 30s and questioning everything, I don’t think rejection is all about the ‘no.’ Nobody likes to be told no or shunned away, don’t get me wrong it doesn’t ‘not’ phase me. I just think there are more layers underneath the surface that we just haven’t felt or even acknowledged in ourselves within this state of rejection when it happens. If I were to use an example of being rejected for a job it would go a little like this: 

1. BEING rejected with a letter explaining you were unsuccessful this time.
2. FEELING like a failure and that you have no worth as a result of this letter
3. ACTING upon these feelings to spiral and create similar negative thought patterns which create more negative feelings and you binge on pasta and wine to make it slightly more bearable. 

Now as a 30-something woman, I would challenge my minds thoughts and sit with my feelings to find out:

1. What is the real reason the ‘no’ really bothered me?
2. Is it just my ego being bruised?
3. Do I actually care about this exact rejection or am I basing my worth on it’s outcome? 

The best advice I ever had was to sit with my feelings and just let them be. It’s changed everything about the way I get through any given situation that involves emotion. Don’t talk yourself out of how you feel or cover it up. Don’t hold in tears if they need to be released. Let yourself be human and who you are. You are that person feeling those emotions – nobody else can do that for you. Therefore sitting with them lets you understand what’s really going on underneath the egotistic layer that just doesn’t want it’s pride damaged. We all own one so just get on with it. 

Elaborating on this, I could sit down and feel the shame, anger and embarrassment at that rejection letter. I do feel that and I let it in to let it go. Be it crying, going for a walk or sitting in silence on my own. Honestly, once you let these feelings surface you’ll soon move through to a feeling of understanding the real reason you felt those emotions. Do I give a shit about a job I probably didn’t want anyway? Hardly. So what is it?

External validation. Deep underneath the superficial surface reactions, it’s a desire to be wanted and chosen. Accepted into social groups and seen to be ‘good enough’ to be the winner. Maybe that’s some kind of animal instinct I don’t know. Google it. What I’m trying to say is we people please to the extent we lose who and what we are about. We seek happiness in the form of others giving it to us, so when we don’t receive it, we lose our sense of self-worth. We give so much just to be given back to and in that process we lose the most important part of ourselves – self acceptance. It’s our foundation and when we take the time to observe our thoughts and feelings, we can understand all it really was about was us not being verified as adequate enough for somebody else. 

If we start to realise this, rejection turns into an experience we can use positively to figure out where we really want to go, and what we are looking for deep inside. It’s just a reflection back on what we don’t have, that we want in our lives. The search to fulfil what we desire, not what others demand of us so we feel accepted. 

Wash the surface away and you’ll find yourself. You’ll find once you stop worrying about what others think, you’re free to live your best life. Opinions of others are not your truth and never will be. Use this for your own example and see what comes up.

Bella x