A Letter to I Love You

In all the tragedies I had ever read, and the respective and profound verses of both the classics and the contemporaries; figurative sadness had prepared me so insufficiently for your loss, it took almost two years to realise that you had gone.  

Writing they say, is a defiant stance against a sad consuming silence, and recently more than ever, as tragedy has struck the young lives of many, I have found it apt to tell my story, so that others may know, that even though their hearts may break, split in half, and enduringly reside somewhere deep and dark, everything - even the longevity of grief is nothing in contrast to the infinity of love…because irrespective of life and death, love outlives us all.

In the 10 short years since you left, I have found that memories are like bullets, both comforting and cathartic, pensive of that sharp little pain, that never truly dulls, but thuds with every step.

Looking back I can’t help but dwell on the darkness which took the glow from our family for a very long time. Laughter was infrequent and most days it didn’t exist at all. The world had acquired a hardness and it was no longer a place we wanted to live without you. A daily sadness gathered momentum, turning into months and merging into years.   

And I wanted to punch all those people who brought sandwiches and cakes and told me that time heals everything, because what did they know about you. They desperately wanted me to believe that everything would be okay, but did they not understand that it wouldn’t, and it never fully would be again?

Strength, it became clear, was one of the few things that remained when our family had nothing left to give. For Dad that meant getting out of bed became his greatest challenge, when the world had given him every reason not to. And if it hadn't of been for Mum, the human super glue that had held us all together, we would have surely sank under the weight of our own constrictive sadness.

Your death struck a profound chord, and it echoed in my ears so loudly, that I could no longer hear the happy sound of my own future calling.  Loss had changed a cheerful girl and I could not make sense of what was incomprehensible, so inexplicable. You were far too young to die, 21, number 50, and the unlucky two out of an unfortunate three.

Remember when you hugged me and said you would be safe? That was a promise you could not keep, and the syllables of goodbyes were ones we were never able to completely form. So many times I have lamented cross words which were briefly spoken, or a sorry which took a little too long to take shape. I would take them all back if I could, and replace them with I love you’s.

Memories of our childhood visit me often. They are so clear and vivid it’s like we’re all young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant, and funny little moments seem all the more hilarious now they can never be shared or repeated. I would gladly take several karate chops to the head, which seemed liked a regular occurrence during your Bruce lee phase, to have you here with me. I laugh when I remember how you panicked and shouted ‘DON’T TELL MUM’ as you sat me on your knee, and I secretly sat smiling under my pack of peas as you hugged me close, because you weren't just my big brother you were my favourite person ever. I’ll never forget the family wedding when you thought sneaking a dozen whiskeys at 16 was a good idea, and we were given the strictest instructions not to laugh during the two hour car journey home….which proved to be impossible.

And now you're gone, your absence is never forgotten on birthdays, Christmas and every day in between. I cannot comprehend all the happy times you will not be here to see, and the joyous moments we must experience without you, but you are always in our hearts and minds and there you will live forever.

I’m very different now because of you, because of your loss but more importantly because of your legacy. I’ve never wanted to make anyone prouder than what I want to make you. And even though your life was short, it was the sweetest it could be. There was happiness and laughter and memories that will never fade. And in your loss I found a fortitude that I did not know I had, and when the lights go off and I’m all alone, when the thoughts flood, and the tears stream, I stare at the ceiling in my room and think of ways to make you proud, repeat my thank yous and continue to live the best life I can without you.

The longing to act meaningfully has flourished from your loss. I would take back every single trivial request I’ve ever made, and replace it with a piece of some grand puzzle of understanding, which would slowly reveal what it truly means to live and love…something I have learned from the shadowy lessons of grief.

I find a little therapy in the mention of your name, from those people who like me, have not forgotten you or how much you mean. I send a silent heartfelt thank-you to those who continue to ask me about you, or better still, tell me a story about a part of your adventure I did not know had taken place.

 

There is no other who could walk the earth in the light of my admiration for you, and if I could see you now, I'd tell you that I love you, and in those three words nothing will ever change. I’ll always talk about you like you put the stars in the sky, and of all the people who have ever made me laugh, your silly and contagious ways will always be my favourite.

There is no worldly substitute for loss, and just when I’m flattened and floored by other people’s trivialities, I’ll bite my tongue and realise that life and love is relative, and people can only meet you on their level of understanding and experience. 

You have taught me that many things can go wrong, and some days only a few go right, but each day is a little miracle. And even though the question of why we have to loose those who we love the most, will always strike me as the most agonising torture we could possibly endure, we will endure it in love and memory of you.

You have taught me that we must survive the difficult and the dreadful, to understand every shade of love...and all the colours in between - including those that stem from our darkest days.

Because you are not the sum of tears you have left behind. You are the laughter and happiness which were so uniquely you, and the immeasurable joy that you continue to bring us all.

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From Me to You

And in between my pen and person the starkest truth exists, that in any given moment we have two choices. To move forward in life and love or backward in sorrow and grief. If like me, your waiting for your heart to fall back into the slot where it used to be, understand that sadly it might never.

Happiness however, will rise and fall with the wind, and just when you think you want to give up, as I have many times before, understand that regardless of the way you feel, you have to decide what to do with the time you have left without the ones you love.

And if you can tolerate the insurmountable frustration and anguish, accept the absence of a remedy for heartbreak, and bare the reality of incomplete healing, then you can face the future one day at a time. Grief it seems, can provide a strange focus for us all, and through an infinite strength which you  probably didn't even know existed, we can be inspired by loss in a way we never thought possible.

And if my story, motivated by the greatest protagonist of my life, can soothe those who like myself, had to say goodbye far too soon, then know that Liam continues to inspire me to be the best person that I can be.

Because no matter where in the world I am, I’m writing to him with love. Always.

Gymtimidation

Females. We’re awfully hard on ourselves. Tall, small, skinny, curvy, dark, pale, natural or enhanced – we generally don’t like what we have, regardless of how good we have it. In addition to these basic physical configurations, lie the problems associated with accentuation and more specifically....maintenance.

Working out and staying in shape can be very difficult. It’s often why we rely on ‘experts’ to keep us informed and motivated. As the glorification of the ‘ideal’ feminine form trickles into our daily peripheral vision, via a television, magazine or Instagram post; the expectations and pressures to conform to this unrealistic default image intensify, to the exasperation and disheartenment of womankind.

Summer it seems, is the personification of all these insecurities, where, the mere thought of a bikini or revealing holiday outfit sends women in droves to the nearest exercise establishment or nutri bullet retailer. What seems obvious to me is that fundamentally, we’re still approaching our health and fitness goals in a totally absurd and unrealistic manner.

Namely, an all or nothing approach with the expectation of a total body transformation.

Something I’ve learnt on my own personal fitness journey, is that health isn’t happiness unless it’s sustainable. 

That bikini diet where you liquidise the contents of your local supermarket vegetable aisle, or the couple of hundred euro you spend on an intense fitness course and high commitment training schedule, just isn’t feasible in the long term. As brilliant as these result orientated summer blasts can be, they often stump in a September landslide of motivation and development. As the darker nights roll in and the constant fear of sunny days and skimpy beach wear calms, many of us revert back to inactivity , until the bikini body overhaul starts again next year. This can be detrimental to our holistic health and happiness, culminating in a vicious annual cycle of negative and uninspired living habits.

I think Science has proven pretty conclusively that working out is good for you, for reasons above and beyond looking good in a bodycon dress. However our motivation to stay in shape and achieve the idea of the ‘perfect’ body is a mental health epidemic. I repeat MENTAL HEALTH EPIDEMIC. Realistically a ‘summer body’ is a perfect example of a good decision made for the wrong reasons. 

Right now the focus on muscularity is inescapable. This works to varying degrees of advantage in the same way its image predecessors also rewarded a certain type of woman. It's perfectly normal to get motivated by the incredible physiques of the health and fitness industry, but understand that "perfection" doesn't exist for them any more than it does for us, and body image trends will continue to change along with autumn, winter and summer collections. 

Health and fitness is an incredible journey that is different for everyone.

 We were each given a body shape that is wonderfully unique to us, and the only productive thing we can do with it, is enhance what we were naturally given. Undeniably, I’m thankful to my mother for providing the optical illusion that comes with having DD’s, namely the fact that they make everything else look smaller. Even so, it took me a very long time to love my body and sadly I look back on the years I spent reprimanding myself for not looking like the girl in the magazine. In a strange way I celebrate the relief that comes with the realisation that leather trousers will never look good on me, because of my inproportional thigh to ass ratio, and I have finally accepted that I’m never going to fit into my sisters clothes, because I am the way I am, and that’s perfectly ok.

Ironically, to most people I’m sure I appear on the polar end of the confidence spectrum. I’m one of those sickly creatures who document their physical progression on social media. In contrast, to the screen shots and questions of arrogance I’m certain they raise among some people, I don’t do it to show off or muster circus attention. I post select photos of my progression to show women; specifically young girls, that Jane Doe can be fit, healthy and happy. I own every bit of progress I make. It’s mine and no one elses. I don’t have a personal trainer and I rarely attend fitness classes anymore. I’ve learnt that exercise isn’t complicated and you can achieve the results you want YOURSELF. Health just requires curiosity, persistence, knowledge, enjoyment and a little and often approach; an operational life template for anything truly worth having.

GYMTIMIDATION, the term given to the irrational fear of looking silly or out of shape is infectious, plaguing the female population since the campaign for women’s suffrage ended. It’s completely natural to feel like you’re lacking self-confidence, because you have been told repeatedly by society and the media, that you need to be better somehow. Skinnier, faster, fitter, stronger, flexier. Instead of letting these feelings overwhelm and deter you, channel them and use them as motivation to get up and go and work hard in the pursuit of being the best YOU can be. 

When you’re working out, if you notice people are looking at you, it’s because 9 times out of 10 you’re doing something right. Your activity intrigues and motivates them in a positive way. A new exercise maybe. A variation they’ve never seen before. Everyone started out not knowing what the hell they were doing, no one came out the womb with extensive form, technique, balance or grace. These are things we must practice to perfect. Exercise is a judgement free environment and you build your own barriers to progress with irrationality.

When you stop thinking of yourself as a sexual object and start taking yourself seriously, you loose your gym inhibitions. I don’t walk into a gym and apologise for my presence there. I’m not afraid to make a bee line for the weights, and I’m not intimidated by a dominant male occupation of the weights room. I’m not at the gym to look for a boyfriend and I don’t really care about the level of my perspiration or the unattractive faces I pull on my last set. I don’t feel out of place nestled between anyone throwing out more sets than a curtain factory, because I’m here to do exactly what everyone else here is already doing. I’m here to improve and feel good about myself. Confidence is everything, because from a deep breath and a point of focus, it’s only a small step to success. Don’t apologise for your personal growth, approach exercise with an relentless purpose, to get fit and have fun!

Thankfully, health and fitness is progression orientated, and you have the power to shape it from one day to the next. Once you accept this, embrace it and use it to your psychological advantage, the longevity of the lifelong foxtrot between fitness and a love of food, becomes a little more enjoyable. This two step in the right direction, shifts your focus from trying to look good in the short term, to clearing the dancefloor for long term health optimisation.

An overwhelming misconception about sculpted gods is that they stay in extreme shape all year round. I wouldn't consider it healthy or possible—physically or mentally—for anyone to stay in extreme condition all the time. We are mere mortal with jobs, family commitments and lets face it…social lives! and most of us are just not willing to pay the price to maintain 4-6 percent body fat all year round. Nor should you! 

Defining yourself against other women is first and foremost ridiculous, but to define yourself by the standards of genetic and cosmetically enhanced freak le chics, whose full time occupation it is to work out and promote expensive supplements is downright self harm.

You are not Jen Selter in the same way Jen Selter is not you. She doesn’t have to deal with a demanding job or social commitments, she doesn’t have to feed, nurture and entertain children and she doesn’t have to meet a crazy deadline due for 8am. Stop tirading yourself for having a life, enjoying food or socialising with a glass of wine or three. Forgive yourself for not being a Victoria secrets model who undergoes 12 hours of muscular dehydration before a lingerie show, to look the way she does as she struts past Bruno Mars. As lovely as abs are you must always remember to play, because taking yourself too seriously is a recipe for disaster.

Memories are not made in the bottom of Tupperware dishes nor are they found during solo gym sessions. They're made with people, by people, who love your imperfections and idiosyncrasies.

The deceitful thing about social media images is that they never change, whereas the bodies being photographed do. If you're going to emulate your idols, you have to first understand that unrecognisable changes majoritively occur via a talented little technician with a mouse. Envying photo shopped images of women is about as conducive to progress as walking backwards blind folded, with your legs tied hoping to gain ground. 

Develop realistic goals you can be proud of. Health and fitness is about looking in the mirror and seeing something that wasn’t there yesterday. Its about running that little bit further and lifting that little bit heavier...It’s about becoming YOUR best self.

Being a fitness junkie and die hard food fanatic is the health equivalent of multiple personality syndrome. Some days I’m all macros and protein, while others I’m three desserts in, contemplating a forth. Health and fitness complements your life, it shouldn’t complete it. The real breakthrough comes when you realise there is no end game. If you stop the results will suffer. Little and often is the secret to mental and physical health.

Balance my dear lady friends, is the thing that tentatively keeps us on the path of sanity and physical fabulousness. Sometimes that means holding a dumb bell in one hand and a chocolate brownie in the other.

From Doha, With Love.