I know these posts aren’t very frequent, but I came to a dilemma about them: these posts are supposed to be my thoughts and recovery updates, but my thoughts are negative and my recovery upsets me. I didn’t want to write things that may make others feel down, but then I was told by a very wise man that the lows are all part of the journey, and the people reading this are here for exactly that; the journey.

In case you didn’t realise, these blogs are straight from my mind to phone. Whenever some thoughts hit me which I think I’d like to share, I start typing on my phone. I really don’t tend to proof read (which I’ll try to from now), these posts are pure, raw, unedited and unfiltered.

So it’s bath time, Beyoncé playing just lay here. Bath time is supposed to be so relaxing, a tranquil time to gather your thoughts. But for me, bath time is one of the worst times. As a young woman, I like to feel fresh and clean at all times, if i don’t feel that way it’s made evident through my mood, I become irritable, snappy and down. Each time I get my clothes ready, I do it as if I’m just going through the motions. It’s almost a zombie like state. Getting clean clothes together and running water is hardly a huge task, yet I avoid it as thought it is. Once the bath is ran, there’s no escaping it. I can’t keep delaying and finding some other corner of my room to for no good reason ‘reorganise’. I get in, I sit up, I look down, and it hits me. As it has been hitting me everyday, but it hits me so much more. I sit here alone with my thoughts. I have no where to look but down at myself. I look down and see the drops of my harsh reality. The discoloured shades of brown, white, pink and purple. The lumpy skin and the skin graphs. These marks are meant to be for just me to see, but I get wondering if anyone else in the future will ever get the chance, or want it. I think these low moments are what hurt me the most. My simplest of tasks become a hurdle. I can’t be normal about it, my emotions won’t let me. I sit, I reflect, I torture myself. It shouldn’t be a big deal, it’s part of it, it’s something I need to do, so why is each time like a breakdown?

This isn’t a relaxing bath with candles lit, some Radox to relax my muscles and a load of bubbles. This is the most hospital-like bath you can think of. Still not allowed any chemicals my skin, no make up, no fragranced or unnatural shower gels. To make things extra difficult I have to get out of the bath to wash my hair so no shampoo runs over the burns. And then afterwards? I have an exciting time doing the same thing I have to do every few hours. I apply creams and oils to the right areas, and get back into my pressure garment. Now I can go two ways, throw a bit of positivity to the subject and describe it as my bespoke body suit in nude, perfect for pushing down lumpy scars and keeping them down. Or I can maintain this level of emptiness and say it how it is, the suit I’m supposed to wear 23 hours a day, only removing for showering and creaming that is tight and gets extremely hot beneath my normal clothes.

I have mentioned my eyebrows quite a few times, how I’ve been advised not to do them, but of course it’s more than just plucking eyebrows I’ve been advised against. So many thoughts go through my mind all day everyday. On the outside I maintain this image that I am such a strong and capable woman, but every woman likes to feel like a beautiful, flawless woman (flaws included), and I struggle to feel that anymore, and boy did I used to feel it! Usually back in the hairdressers as soon as I spot a few split ends after a few weeks, I found myself wondering what the point was this time. Now don’t get me wrong, I will go get my hair done eventually, but I just feel unable to walk tall and hold my head up high and show off the new locks. I know it sounds silly, because if I read this from any other woman I’d be outraged, I’d want to shake her and tell her to show the world because she’s the most beautiful thing in it, it’s just up to her to see it for herself. But when you have a new face and body, it takes some adjusting to. But I don’t want to adjust, I want it fixed, I need it fixed.

I’m the woman that was never shy of a camera, I was that woman that was such a woman’s woman, I’m that woman that would get a taxi fare free thanks to a cheeky smile and a few compliments. I’m that woman that now struggles to look at herself. I think more than anything I just want someone to talk to. My friends try their best but are busy, plus I don’t want to overwhelm them, what happened to me isn’t some usual boy problem they can talk me up from and boost my confidence about. This is a whole other game. I think that horrible feeling of being alone is what brings me to these posts. My friends are busy, my dad is a man; I can’t exactly confide as much as I’d like to for obvious reasons, and strangers, I guess I just don’t have it in me to let all of this out to one stranger in particular *cue blog posts*. At the same time I’m a hypocrite, I’d love to be able to discuss this with someone, tell them all the things really going on with me, all my real thoughts and feelings, but at the same time I don’t want to. I want to talk about normal things, why should my life be the centre of attention? Tell me about your day? How was your holiday? How was your shift? How was the birthday party? Tell me the good and bad in your life, because I’ve had just enough thinking about mine.

If your bath times brought back horrible memories you still have nightmares over, or meant you had to brutally face the new you, you tell me how keen you would be. If this is my face, body and skin forever then I don’t want it. You can’t take it because this wasn’t mine, it isn’t mine and I can’t accept this for anything that is is, wrong.

I told you, these posts are raw, no euphemisms here. Of course there are positives, I intend on writing a post on all the positive progress soon. But all the positivity for the future still won’t erase the way I feel when I look at my scars now.

But don’t get it twisted, I’ll be back on top form soon, the world is still mine for the taking. Same as for any woman. Regardless of what comes your way, we pick up the pieces and keep it moving until the sunny day we hope for arrives.

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