Erin is the writer of Daisies and Bruises, a blog about "finding her way one step and one word at a time. After losing most of her youth to severe depression, she decided that since death was no longer an option, she had to find a way to live. This is it."

The other day I was watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a show I completely loved as a younger teenager. Okay maybe I still do love it. Anyway, I was watching it and looking at the styles from 1997 made me giggle but they also made me nostalgic. When I was really into the show I was about fourteen and it was very important to me to wear only what was “cool,” style my hair the right way, and talk as wittily as characters on tv. It was so simple! I just had to pay attention and copy what I saw around me. My parents were pretty cool in letting me wear what I wanted and I loved going out to buy clothes.

Fast forward to age sixteen: I flew across the ocean and live in France for three months. All of my “cool” clothes were so far from what was in over there that I was truly embarrassed. That said, everyone knew I was from Canada so they didn’t judge my wardrobe as harshly as they would have otherwise. By the time I flew home to Canada I had a bunch of cool French clothes to mix into my wardrobe. Unfortunately, my depression really took hold around that time and upon returning to my high school after the exchange, I realized just how small minded everyone around me was. No one understood my new clothes and I could no longer relate to what was “cool” here in Ontario. It seemed so ridiculous to care about what was “cool” when cool changes constantly.

So I stopped relating to my peers’ interests at all. My depression became so bad that I wanted my clothes to reflect just how different I felt inside. I started wearing mainly black and red and painting my eyes dark so that people were intimidated by me. I wanted everyone to leave me the hell alone. There were only a few stores in my city that fit my tastes but that was enough. After I left high school it didn’t matter so much whether I was wearing an outfit that made me look tough because I didn’t go out into the world much. I isolated to the point of only having my therapist and my parents see my clothing. My body image got really bad around that time and I felt fucking hideous no matter what I wore. I stopped caring completely.

Now that I’m doing better, my clothing situation is pretty out of whack. I still feel very different from everyone else, but not in a wearing black 24/7 kind of way. More like I want to represent all eras in one outfit and magically have them blend together. I want to be colourful and eclectic but I have zero money and still have bad body image. I hate change rooms, spending money gives me anxiety, and I just get so fed up that I always go home empty-handed. On my bad days my clothing depresses me and on my good days it just isn’t good enough.

I wonder how the people in my city see my look. They mustn’t think about my clothing as much as I do because they are too concerned with their own outfit. Out of high school, do people still judge you by your attire?  I think so, especially in the workplace, but adults at least are more compassionate when it comes to understanding that money is tight and it’s hard to find clothes in general. I suppose my problem now is that I have the ideas, and can make do with thrift store clothing, but I need the hope to give me ammunition. I believe that a great outfit tells the world that you’re interesting and interested, that life is worth the effort of getting dressed up a little. I want to give off that impression, but first I need to practice the right frame of mind:

The world is full of adventure and I should dress accordingly. 

I’m worth the effort it takes to find clothes I like.

My wardrobe is worth investing in, even if I don’t have the perfect body.

Hopefully these things will help. I need force myself to think positively sometimes.  Sometimes I think if only my city weren’t so conservative, expensive, and boring then I would truly have clothes that felt like mine. Then I think about my money situation, and realize that this whole artist business is never going to pay enough for me to fly to exciting places and shop for the clothes of my dreams. What else do I spend my money on? Do those things make me happy?

Last year I met this art therapist that dressed pretty relaxed and carefree. Most people thought she was stuck up but I could see the art she had in her expression. She saw every person as someone with potential, someone who could work to do whatever they wanted. This woman didn’t spend time making sure her hair was perfect in the morning, she focused her energy on what she loved. The art therapy room was splashed floor to ceiling in paint, all colours of the rainbow. She helped people heal outwardly. Of course we still noticed her clothes, but she made me feel more natural in my clothes because she was so natural in hers. She even had a piece of tape stuck on her pants, something that people ALWAYS laugh at me about since I’m always sitting on the floor crafting and getting messy. I never think it’s funny because it happens all the time. So that little piece of tape on the art therapist’s pants helped me see that style is more than clothing, it’s what you do and who you are that counts.

That probably sounds really cheesy, but when you think about your life, is there a time of day or of the week that you don’t care so much about your looks? What were you wearing the last time you lived in the moment? Do you even need to remember?

- by Erin