If I am to be sad or angry today, I might as well do it with the glam and a good fucking outfit

Aya
Jun 1
3 min read

Truth be told, May was brutal to me. The £10k investment for my business fell through, money was tighter than ever, first time doing taxes in the new country, visa extension, tons of anxiety, and much more than pushed me closer to hitting depression than I ever was since April-May 2018.

Everything lost its beauty and taste. Even water wasn’t tasting good (and I love water). Unfortunately, I am too broke to be sad in Paris, so I had no opportunity to crawl into bed and cry my eyes out. The crying had to be scheduled to allow me still to hustle my butt off, and not to wake up with puffy eyes the next morning. Balance, I guess. Yes, I am probably the happiest depressed person you’ll ever meet. My brain is always playing tricks on me. When I say the only person I compete with is me, I am always dead serious.

Naturally, I was wabbling a lot, operating from the place of lack (How the fuck did I get there? Was I there all along?), and frustration that is always conveniently transformed into anger and chronic exhaustion.

I can interpret these May failures as: "This is bad. I should stop. I'm failing. Or I can interpret it as: "This is the necessary pain that comes before the reward."

So, I kept pushing.

Kept pushing for her.

For Little me.

Little girl in me has been through fucking a lot. The outside world was cruel to us, so why would I also create a hostile environment for little me within me? Especially when I promised her the world.

I was the one who made the promise to keep her safe. when no one made her feel safe. We travelled the world and finally found the place where we belong.

Tears always peak when I think about myself that way.

Because not only do I need to save myself and a little girl who always dreamt big for herself, but also kill the version of me that was no longer valuable. The one that was constantly in fear, in doubt, in lack.

The version of me that was protecting me from disappointment by keeping me focused on barriers.

I am thankful she let me kill her off when it was time. I think for months I was the old me, but not the new me either. That middle place usually sucks. And one thing that definitely saved me was fashion.

Dressing up when you don’t feel like getting up out of bed is a form of therapy.

If I am to be sad or angry today, I might as well do it with the glam and a good fucking outfit.

Turning heads will boost your mood. I get that depression is heavy and looks different for everyone, but doing something nice for yourself, by yourself, with putting just a little effort, will add an ounce of dopamine. And then we just keep piling it up until we've got enough to boost ourselves. Put on some nice clothes, even if you don’t go anywhere, even if you would want to change back in an hour, just do it. Think of a little one in you who was fascinated by adults, their outfits, or your favourite celeb crush from when you were a teen. Don’t matter. I will use any trick up my sleeve if it will help me to boost myself up. Hence, the outfits, building Styling Society from yet another scratch, putting my content out there, and sending what feels like a million emails. Runs are back in my schedule too, btw. Physical movement is indeed the best, even though most of the time, I just want to sleep in and, in my dreams, flirt with Anthony Joshua for a little longer.

And if this venting helped at least one person today, I am happy. If I did that for you, let me know. I hope it’s been a little lighter for you out there this past month.