As the saying goes: You don’t know what you’ve got until its gone.

I think we are all experiencing this realization during the times we find ourselves in.

Though I mostly like to keep my head space in the present, I have found myself aching about past times when looking at old photographs.

Not in a sense of wanting to be in that moment again.
It’s more a feeling of regret for not appreciating the moment for what it was when I was actually experiencing it.

I sometimes wonder if life was meant to be lived backwards.
Am I incapable of really appreciating something while I am experiencing it?
Or does my brain make the event seem more important in hindsight than what it actually was?

I may view my past experiences with rose tinted glasses with nostalgia written all over them.
I can understand how I can hype up something in retrospect.

I acknowledge that I do this, and I can separate my sentimentality from reality most of the time.

What I am more concerned about is the behaviour & thought patterns I had when I took some of those photographs.

This mainly pertains to my body image.

Ever since I can remember, I have never really been 100% comfortable with my physical appearance. It has been one of the biggest mental struggles of my living days.

Looking at certain older photographs, I can clearly remember my feelings and opinions of myself when taking the picture.
And they were mostly negative and self-deprecating.

I am consciously aware that I am doing something unrealistic and I sincerely believe that my importance is not summed up by how I look in a bathing suit.
I logically know these terrible feelings are rubbish, but it is like my head and heart are in battle of wits.
My head knows that my importance lie in my character, my achievements and how I treat others, but my heart sinks into my stomach when I don’t meet the crazy standards of beauty I have concocted in my head.

It’s a war in my mind.

When I look at the images now, I cannot comprehend why I felt that way.
There I was in some beautiful destination and all I could focus on in that particular moment was how uncomfortable I felt in my own skin.

It’s tragic.

And it makes me extremely sad.

I am not enjoying the extraordinary life I am living to my fullest capacity.
The combat in my mind is stealing my joy. And its so stupid and unnecessary.

I guess you can blame it on media. Or pop culture, patriarchy or years and years of social conditioning.
All those factors do play a role and the psychology behind it is too deep to delve in here.

What I do know is that I have control over my own thoughts and feelings.
I can make myself completely aware when I am being over critical and then nip myself in the bud while doing it.

I have control over the dialogue in my mind about myself.
I can feel unpleasant feelings, move through them, and reinforce the strengths within myself that goes beyond looks or age.
The aspects of life that make it precious and worth living.

I hope that when life returns to a new normal and I can travel and move about that I will never, ever waste even a millisecond on feeling terrible about myself in a moment again.

If I can take away only one positive thing from this chapter in history, I would want it to be that.

I will wholeheartedly focus on my gratitude for being privileged enough to live a full life filled with phenomenal experiences.

Appreciativeness cannot age or wilt. Joy cannot lose its beauty or meaning.

If I have thankfulness and delight in my life, I can eternally feel beautiful.