Not Feeling Good Enough - Part 2

Part Two.

I hope you enjoyed my last blog, where I shared my story about the infamous gold Gucci shoes.

Let’s continue…

I left the shoes in Venice and moved on, far, far away from such materialistic pleasures, convinced that the story was over.

But we all know it’s never over until the fat lady sings (I have no idea what that means, by the way).

My birthday is August 22nd, 2017.

Gareth: “What would you like for your birthday, my beloved?”

Me - “Those gold Gucci shoes!” - this came out of my mouth so fast, and I have no idea where it came from. It just blurted out.

Then I backtracked, changed my tune, and tried to ignore the fact that I sounded, in my own head, shallow, greedy and entitled (super judgmental or what?).

Too late.

Gareth “Hey, why don’t we drive to Milan in December to buy them, and they can be a combined birthday and Christmas present - on account of them being SO FUCKING EXPENSIVE!!”

Smile :)

So that’s how I found myself outside the Gucci store in Milan, looking at the holy grail of shoes.

The flagship store in Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II is an absolutely beautiful shopping space. It was December, so there was a stunning, jaw-dropping HUGE Christmas tree dripping with Swarovski decorations. Well-heeled Milanese and Japanese tourists shoulder to shoulder doing their festive shopping.

I felt out of place.

Small (well, actually, I am ).

Unworthy.

Bit of a loser.

Gareth: “Are we going to stay here all day just looking in the window?”

I gazed past the window dressings into the store behind. Young staff dressed elegantly in black trouser suits with crisp white shirts.

The girls with a slash of dark crimson lipstick and androgynous haircuts.

The boys were slim, sophisticated and well-groomed.

The store was busy, and a thousand questions were rushing through my mind,

Would they look down at me?

Humour me?

Belittle me with just a look.

I’m not dressed well

My hair is a mess

Blah…blah…blah.

I wanted to run…

Instead, I mustered up as much confidence as I could, and as I nervously pushed open the door, I stepped into another world.

Looking back, I now know that I took feelings of anxiety and overwhelm as normal for me. I tolerated them to the point where those feelings became almost a part of me, like an arm or a leg (a bit like what the shoes would cost).

“My name is Susan; I am anxious and overwhelmed”

I didn’t know what I knew now.

Anxiety has left me, not for good. It still tries to push my door open occasionally, but I’m used to the annoying little critter now; I can soon send it packing.

Sobriety has given me that gift.

I am strong.

I am powerful

I am loved

Just like you.

The third part of the story is coming soon.