A couple of months in the past, I sat in a new therapist’s place of job and ticked off the myriad tactics by which I imagine myself an introvert.
“It’s interesting to hear that, given how you’re dressed,” she stated, now not unkindly.
I needed to snort as I appeared down at my outfit. I was once dressed in a maroon sweater vest ornamented with an summary sequin sundown around the chest, vibrant yellow, embroidered linen shorts and chunky platform sandals. My huge, teased-out hair was once driven again from my face with a pair of cyborg-esque purple shades. My wrists had been stacked with a couple of bracelets.
I am an introvert, however I get dressed like an extrovert. My private taste is nearly all the time the loudest factor about me — fuzzy skirts, eccentric patterns, large earrings — it shouts my lifestyles into no matter room I’m getting into.
As any individual who prefers to take a seat on an opinion till I’m certain of it, whose persona doesn’t totally emerge until I’m relaxed, my garments do the task of speaking the sides of what I would name my perfect self sooner than they’re verbally obvious: my humorousness, my voice as a author, my try-hard-ness, my aura, my weirdness, my interest.
This is a very long-winded manner of offering context for the truth that October was once an rapidly difficult month for me to aim a chronicle of outfit reflect selfies. It was once difficult as a result of, to be completely fair, I wasn’t feeling like my perfect self.
Though I’ve joked about it prior to now, my insomnia has turn into extra critical just lately — critical sufficient that I more or less…gave up on looking to get a just right evening’s sleep. The ensuing loss of leisure impacted my psychological and bodily well being considerably, triggering the whole lot from intense anxiousness and mind fog to a level of stress-induced frame symbol nastiness I haven’t skilled since school.
What a a laugh juncture at which to take 31 footage of your self, huh?
It is fascinating, and a little unhappy, to seem again at footage by which the maximalism of my outfits stood in sharp distinction to how minuscule I felt within. There had been mornings when I didn’t really feel like leaving my rental, a lot much less getting wearing a a laugh outfit. On the ones days, my garments didn’t really feel like self-expression such a lot as they felt like self-protection, like a coat of armor I may placed on to remind myself that I was once nonetheless me, and I was once ok.
And I am. I’m extra ok now that I’ve began to aim the (paradoxically onerous) effort of conquering insomnia once more, because of a teary breakdown a couple weekends in the past all through which I learned my cycle of apathy and anxiousness had been infrequently sustainable.
In the weeks since, I’ve reinitiated a strict sleep hygiene protocol (which has not anything to do with cleansing my sheets). I’ve additionally began doing acupuncture with a specialist who’s so pretty I will most probably stay going as to if or now not it is helping conk me out.
It’s a paintings in growth, and I assume it will probably be for a whilst. In the interim, I’m thankful for the straightforward act of having dressed, and the power to put on garments that talk for me when I’m too scared, or too shy, or too drained.