I need a waffle! (-Joe Jonas)

Yesterday, November 14th, the Jonas Brothers performed in Antwerp. I was there, and I was just blown away.

The concert was nowhere near to sold out, but the lower area was pretty much filled up. According to the news, 15.000 tickets were sold. We (my best friend and I) had balcony-‘seats’, and when JB was about to start, someone from security came to tell us we could go sit down because there were so many empty seats.

The opening act, Valerius, was pretty good. They’re originally from Holland, and I was a bit disappointed that there wasn’t a band from Belgium performing. The crowd got really excited, and screamed every time the boys from Valerius mentioned the Jonas Brothers. It was pretty funny: Jonas Brothers – Scream. Blablablabla Jonas Brothers – Scream.

When the opening act closed up, and the crew got on stage to prepare everything for the JB, things got pretty hilarious. The JB logo appeared – Scream. Jack started testing his drums – Scream. The lights changed colours – Scream.
It was awesome – and quite deafening. I think my ears are now permanently damaged. Hearing aid in 40 years instead of 50. Thanks for that.

All of a sudden, Bounce starts playing. Images of Joe and Nick in their outfits come to mind, and I start giggling incontrollably. After Bounce, We Will Rock You starts playing, and I think the Jonas Brothers came out during that song. Or Bounce. Can’t remember clearly.
It was quite the anti-climax though. The lights didn’t even fade, music didn’t stop playing and the guys just walked from backstage to the stage and disappeared there.
I was expecting some dramatic entrance, but alright :)

Okay, so the band starts playing, and then the boys appear and play Paranoid. THEY WERE AWESOME. They looked so happy to be performing, and you could see they were really enjoying themselves. Great thing to see!

Joe was acting silly all night. He was involved in a teddy-bear war with Ryan (keyboard), he took over someone’s camera during Video Girl, he changed the lyrics to Gotta Find You (I need a WAFFLE).

The crowd was so incredibly LOUD. (my friend was wearing ear-plugs. No joke) They sang all the lyrics, danced to all the songs. It was amazing.
During ALBL, some of the girls in the crowd put up the Diabetes-logo (blue circle) and they were filmed and put up on screen for a bit.
Surprisingly, Nick didn’t change his speech to World Diabetes Day, but it was moving none the less.

My best friend (who’s not a JB fan, but can appreciate their music) actually said that with his way with words, Nick could run for president. Earned a chuckle out of me :)

(Also, I’m watching Aladdin now, and it’s a pretty scandalous movie. I mean, Yasmine and he totally kissed on the first date!…Alright, sorry, back to the matter at hand)

Let’s talk about the band, shall we. Garbo was looking F.I.N.E. And he seemed to be having a great time too, he walked around on stage a lot, joked with the boys. Awesome.
Ryan was, as I mentioned before, involved in a teddy-bear-war with Joe, which was pretty entertaining. :D I couldn’t really see him, because he was at the other side of the stage.
John was rocking out on the guitar. Guy has skills, let me tell ya. He was goofing off with the boys too, pretty funny.
I couldn’t really see Jack, since he was rocking the drums all the time.

Christa and Caroline are my new favorite people. No joke. Several reasons for that:
- They have mad skills.
- They looked absolutely gorgeous.
- Christa liked her waffles straight up (Joe asked everybody how they liked their waffles)
(I’m up to the part where Jafar has turned into a snake. Thrilling stuff)
- They danced so much, and interacted with the crowd so much. They’re awesome.

And the HORNS!!! They’ve got dancing skills!! :D They add so much to the music, it’s amazing!

I’m going over the concert in my mind, and I don’t think I missed something. The concert was AMAZING! I think they blew a lot of people’s minds with their skills and live music.

The other concert I went to was Britney’s, and while that was amazing as well, I totally prefer the JB. They sang live, they connected with the fans a hellovalot more then Britney did and while the show aspect wasn’t up to par with Britney’s, it didn’t bother me one bit.

Concerts should be about the music, and the live performances. Not about the dancing and the show around it.

I had a lot of expectations about the Jonas Brothers show, and boy, did they live up to it!!!

The teacher in me is taking over, and if I would have to grade this it would definitely be…

A+ – with a pat on the shoulder of the teacher.

Also, I still believe Garbo was totally flirting with me. If Fia is reading this: the boy is mine. ;-)
Okay, he couldn’t see me. SO WHAT?!? Details, woman.

Okay, off to watch the end of Alladdin. Sigh. Memories. :)

LOVE YA! :)

Jack of Hearts

I don’t do dates. Never.

They’re awkward. There are too many expectations and they never turn out the way you want them to.

Yet, last week, I found myself on a date.
I know. How the heck did this happen?

Well, my best friend thinks that I have 5 ‘secret admirers’. I don’t, I promise. I would know about this, right.
Anyway, so she claims that I do. And when she listed these guys (with me interrupting her with every protest known to man-kind), she listed Date-boy.

Let’s call him Jack. Because his name isn’t Jack.

So, Jack, whose name isn’t really Jack, is a guy I met in college. He studies in a different city then I do, but we study at the same ‘institution’, so to speak. We’re both in the Student Body Council at our school (see last blog) and we met at one of those meetings.

We immediately connected. Our personalities are pretty much alike. Both very outgoing, same kind of humor,…

When we met again later that week, at a party, Jack was a tad bit flirty with me. I didn’t notice (I never notice these kinds of things, but hey) but my friend told me when we were driving home.

ANYWAY…When I told my best friend about this, she immediately added him to the list of secret admirers (that are not really admirers, keep up!) and went onto Facebook to see a picture of him. She immediately gushed about how cute he was, and that he looked like Keane or something…

The next week, she kept talking to me about Jack, gushing how great it would be if we would go out, stuff like that.

So I decided to give it a go. Not because I liked the guy (at least not in the necessary way to go out) but because I liked the idea of going out. Having a relationship. Being in love.

And we had a good time. It was still slightly awkward, but I did enjoy myself. But when I came home, I didn’t feel the butterflies I thought I would be feeling.

In no way am I saying that this is somehow the fault of my best friend. She’s looking out for me, even when she’s seeing admirers that aren’t really there.

I fell in love with the idea of a boyfriend. Not Jack. And I kind of feel horrible about that. I mean, it seems so shallow, you know?

So, I told him about all of this. Not exactly me wanting a boyfriend desperately (a bit too embarrassing, don’t ya think?) but about me wanting to be absolutely sure about something before throwing myself in there. Which I do. It’s not a lie, it’s a part of the problem here. I’ve had too many relationships where I wanted to give the guy a chance and then get disappointed in the end.
I’m done with those.

So, that’s something that I had to get off my chest. :D

(Oh, and I had the idea for the title from Becks. Or Bexhs. Seemed perfect for this entry.)

Love you!

Just Say No!

College is a bitch.

Well, that’s not completely true. Assignments are a bitch. Classes can be a bitch too. Some professors, even.

Things I love about college? The friends. The fact that it brings me closer to the one thing that I’ve wanted all my life.

Some girls wanted to be princesses, others wanted to be famous. Go into acting, singing, modeling, whatever. Not me. Nope, I was always a realistic kid. Even in my dreams.
I wanted to be a teacher. Just like my Mom.

Anyways, that’s totally besides the point. The point is, I can never say NO to people.

“Just say no!” Right? Well, it’s not that easy for me. I’m a people-pleaser. To the bone.
Saying no to drugs, cigarettes, alcohol… Not a problem.

Saying no to a friend? Impossible.

And it’s not just friends either.
If someone’s selling something on the streets, for a good cause or not, they always seem to notice that I can’t say no to them.
It’s so annoying! I’m walking down the street, and poof! Out of all the people shopping, and walking around, they stop ME. And I don’t have the heart to just say: “I’m sorry, I don’t have time.”

Nope. I listen to the whole thing, and end up buying something incredibly stupid along the way.

And you’ll think it’s not a big deal. It’s not. But it gets so annoying sometimes. And it doesn't make things easier.

Starting this year, I’m the Student Body President, or whatever they call it. Wanna hear the story of how I ended up in the Student Body anyway?

Well. First day of college, the Student Body introduces themselves to our class, saying what they do, and stuff like that. They asked every group of students to pick one student who could represent them in the council, but they had to do it willingly.

So, my group basically said: ‘Anyone who REALLY doesn’t want to do it, raise your hand.’ I was still contemplating things, because I’m slow (joke), so everybody raised their hands (besides me, obviously) and besides my protests, they put up my name. Well, I didn’t protest much, because they were asking me directly to join.

AND I CAN’T SAY NO, REMEMBER?

Well, early September, our previous President came up to me and asked me to take his position. She gave me a whole speech about me being good for the job, me being compassionate and all that.

AND I CAN’T SAY NO.

So yeah. Not only am I getting smothered with assignments and classes, I have all the responsibilities of being President.

Not that I mind a lot. Looking back on it, I’m kind of proud with myself to take this responsibility. And for sticking with it. And for taking MORE responsibility. Would I make the same decision, looking back on it?

No clue. I’ve met some fantastic people. I’ve grown in so many ways. Plus, I can’t say no.
Would college be easier without all of this? All the meetings? All the visits to other campuses? Without a doubt.

But, then again. I don’t take the easy way out.

What is love?

So, I started writing something tonight.
I have no clue what it is... Or what it's supposed to be.
It's just a little something that my brain wanted to see written.

I haven't written anything like this before... Suddenly my brain started thinking these thoughts, and for some reason, I had the urge to write it all down. I'm sharing this with all of you, a bit scared to show it to someone I can actually see.

If that makes any sense at all.


Sometimes I feel like I’m missing out.
That I haven’t got a clue what they’re talking about.
They always ask me, when will you find love?

Am I supposed to look for it?
Search for it?
Or do I wait until it stands before me.
Asking me to love him back.

What is love?
Is it an excuse?
Is it a way to get hurt?
Is it overrated?

Or is it the best thing on earth?
Something worth living for?
Waiting for?

How do I know if you’re truly out there or not?
Am I supposed to trust in something I don’t know?
Something I haven’t experienced before?

Is it love?
Is it true?
Is it real?

Sometimes I feel like I don’t have a clue.
Not sure if I’ll ever find what everyone else talks about.

But still, I’m waiting.
Waiting for love.



I would love to know what you think about this. Be honest. It's just a train of thoughts.

In the mood for love...

Have you ever felt a bit jealous of all the happy couples out there? Maybe even been a little sad to see someone finding love, while you can't seem to?

Yesterday was that kind of day for me.

I woke up to find out that Kevin Jonas was engaged. And I'm happy for him. I'm glad he's found love. I wish him all the happiness and love with Danielle.

But I can't help but wonder when I'm going to find love. Meet that person that's going to change my life.

I want to experience it all. That can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over- the-fence, world-series kind of stuff.

Yes, I'm quoting It Takes Two. It's the best love-quote in history.



I'm not that confident that I can find that someone. When you think about it, it's a pretty small chance.
But I need to believe it.



Remember that I began to hang out with a soccer team when I was sixteen? That they called me sexy,...?

It's safe to say that they haven't helped me in trusting that there are good boys out there. Boys who treat you right, are there for you and want to help you out.

Most of the soccer-boys were the exact opposite.

They would have conversations with your boobs instead of your face. They would objectify you. They would want to seduce you.

When they found out I was 'still' a virgin, at age 16, I was target number one on their list. A prize they could collect.

And I was aware of that. I knew about their reputations, about their plans to seduce me,... through one of my best friends, who wasn't like that at all.

Bart was a lot older then me. I think already twenty, when I was sixteen. He was the brother of my ex-boyfriend, and we always got along great.

He always protected me, defended me when things got dirty in the dressing rooms.
Of course, I only found out about that a couple of months ago. But still, even then, I knew he was different.



He warned me about a certain boy, Tom. But when that boy started to text me, I forgot all about his warnings.
Tom texted me the sweetest things. That I was sweet, innocent, beautiful. Exactly the things I wanted to hear.

He asked me to be his girlfriend. I accepted, knowing all about his reputation to seduce girls, only to have sex with them.
But I wanted to give him a chance. I was fairly certain that real emotions could develop.


I had agreed to go to the bar with all of his soccer friends, with him. He told everybody I was his girlfriend, and gave me a sweet kiss on the side of my head.

That night, numerous guys warned me. One of my close friends asked me to not consider having sex with him before we got to the three-months-mark. I laughingly agreed, thinking it wouldn't be that hard.

The next day, Tom already tried to convince me to have sex. I wasn't ready, so I said no.
He acted like he didn't mind. He stayed a little while longer, before having to leave for soccer practice.

That night, he sent me a text. He wrote that his family wasn't happy with him dating a sixteen-year old. That he couldn't continue this relationship.

I didn't believe him. I found it a big coincidence that he broke up with me, right after me saying no.

So I called Bart. Told him about the text message. Before I could even talk about the sex-thing, he already said it wasn't likely that the family-thing was the reason for the break-up.

I explained everything that happened. And he confirmed my suspicions.
He also told me he was so proud of me, for standing my ground and not giving in.


I felt so stupid. I wasn't sad because he had broken up with me. There weren't real feelings there. I was sad because I gave him a chance, even though I knew his reputation.
I felt so naïve.



I haven't had a real boyfriend since then.
Boys did ask me out, but I never felt a connection with them. And I didn't want to go through the whole relationshipthing again, without feelings present.

I have my own theory about love.
If I feel a connection, a click, when I'm around a guy, I'm certain that I can fall in love with him.
But it's not a given. I don't fall in love with every guy I connect with.

A lot of the guys I do connect with, are great friends. Sometimes in relationships. They understand me, I trust them, unconditionally.

But if the connection isn't there, I'm not going to bother by giving the guy a chance.




Now, of course, I'm a normal girl. I need some affection from time to time.
And being without that affection for three years now, isn't easy.

So, sometimes, I look for that affection outside of relationships. Only kissing. And I make sure that the guy doesn't have feelings for me, and that he's aware that a relationship is out of the question. Most of the time, it was with the same guy. We had an unspoken agreement, that we could kiss, as long as neither of us were in a relationship.
He started dating half a year ago. I'm happy for him, he deserves someone who loves him, who can give him that affection with real feelings behind it.



In March, I made the biggest mistake in my life.

I went to a party, and a lot of the soccer boys were present. I hadn't seen them in a while, because I started going out with a different group when I was 17.

One of the boys started talking to me. He confessed he had a crush on me.
Looking back now, I never would've fallen for that line. I heard it too many times before.
But that night, I was drunk. Out of my mind-drunk.

I had made the mistake of mixing beer and wine all night. It took me, not even five minutes to finish a drink, and soon enough I was drunk.
The drunkest I'd ever been.

The guy knew. I'm certain about it. He had seen me drink, he even made a comment about it. And I confessed that I was 'maybe a tiny bit intoxicated'. Of course, in the language of drunks, it means your drunk.
In my case, it meant 'I'm wasted'.


I kept talking with him, even danced with him.
All of a sudden, he pulled me closer and kissed me.
It'd been a while since a guy kissed me, so I didn't mind.

He suggested taking me back to his place.
Even in my drunk state of mind, I knew I didn't want that. I didn't want to lose my virginity to a one night stand.

So, he bought me another drink, and then suggested driving me home.
Thinking it was a good idea, avoiding potential falls with my bike, I gladly accepted his offer.
He took me to his car, and drove to a dark spot near the bar.


He started kissing me again, and soon enough we moved to the backseat.

That's where my mind blanks out.
Next thing I know, I'm in my bed, sore, and without my virginity.

I remember two things.
1. I told him I was a virgin.
2. He wasn't exactly gentle. At all.


So, I sent him a text. Asking if he used a condom. It was the most embarassing thing I had to do in my life, but since I wasn't on birthcontrol at the time, it was kind of crucial.

I waited for his text, looking up all kinds of information. When a girl is most fertile.

The text never came.
I waited until 7 PM, then drove to the next village to pick up a morning-afterpil. I called my best friend, and asked to go out, and have a drink.

I picked her up, and when I was parking my car in front of the café, she asked me how the party had been. I started crying as soon as my car was parked.

She was scared. I never cried, especially not in front of her. Later she told me she thought I had been raped or something.
I told her the entire story in the car.
She was furious with the guy.

I took the morning after pill, in the café, while she was there.




It's been a few months now, almost four to be exact, and I still feel bad.
If I could take something back, it would be that night.

Of course, the guy told the rest of the soccer-crew what happened that night. I was a prize, one of his many conquests.
The guys closest to me told him he shouldn't be proud of taking advantage of a drunk girl, who would've never agreed to it if she wasn't drunk.
I heard about that conversation last week.


That night is the worst mistake I made.
Because I know, it's not only his fault. I could've said no to going to his car.
I could've said no when he moved to the backseat.

I don't remember much about that night, but I'm certain I never said no.
The guy is a royal jerk, but he's not a rapist.



And of course, knowing my luck, I started seeing him everywhere I went after that.
Last week, I went out to get some take-away, to a place I never went to before.
Guess who was there.
Later that night, he was at the same party.
A guy I thought was cute, appeared to be a member of his family.

We never speak to each other. I don't know if he wants to, but I don't let him.


I never told this story to anyone but my best friend.
But since I'm writing away the demons here, I thought this one deserved to be here too.

The tale of how Jolene lost her virginity to a random boy in the backseat of his car.

Classy huh? Not exactly how I imagined it.

I'm still bitter about it, maybe you can tell.



My friends, who knew about it because the guy blabbed it to his friends, told me that I had nothing to be embarassed about.
My male friends were upset, they felt bad because they left me there, by myself, in my drunken state of mind. Of course, when they asked me to leave that night, I told them to leave without me.
My girl-friends understand that I'm upset about it. But they told me to stop feeling guilty.
Of course, that's easier said then done.



I still feel guilty.
The first couple of weeks, I felt guilty all the time. I couldn't not think about it. It drove me insane.
But I had to put up a brave face in front of my family and other friends, who knew nothing about the whole ordeal.

Now, a couple of months later, guilt suddenly appears in my mind. Not as often then it used to, but it was still present.


So, I decided yesterday, when the flash of me telling him I was still a virgin appeared back into my mind, that I had to write about it.

Tell it to someone, other than my best friend. Get it off my chest.

I'll let you know if it helped.



If I can give you advice, it would be this:

1. Never mix drinks. It makes you drunk faster than you can say 'intoxicated'.
2. If your friends leave, go with them. They'll keep you safe.
3. Never fall for the line 'I have a crush on you' when you haven't seen the guy for months.

And of course: only take that next step, when you're absolutely ready for it.
I wasn't. Not with him.


I'm afraid that, when Bart finds out, he'll be disappointed in me. I don't need that. I'm disappointed enough for the both of us. I hope he doesn't judge me.

And I hope you don't either.

The thing that I'm most afraid of now, is to tell my future boyfriend that I lost my virginity in the backseat of a random guy's car. That he'll judge me. Thinks I'm a slut.



I am ready for a relationship. I want to have someone I can trust, be happy with, cuddle,...
I want that can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over- the-fence, world-series kind of stuff.



I hope you'll find it. Or have already found it.
You deserve it. Everybody deserves to be loved.


If you haven't found it. It'll come.
And until then, know that I love you.

xo
Jolien

Our blood is the same.

Goodmorning!

After I reread what I wrote in the last post, I have the sudden urge to make some things clear.

1. My parents are the best parents I could have. The fact that they don't know everything is entirely up to me.
2. I kindof have a good life. Compaired to other stories that I read the past couple of days, I was blessed.
3. This blog won't be all demons and such. I promise.


That being cleared up, I want to tell you about my family.


My mom and dad are happily married. I think for almost 25 years now, but I'm not too sure. They always forget their anniversary, so I don't really have a clue.

Twenty-one years ago, they had my sister, Inne (pronounced In, like INside + na: Inne)
Sixteen months and twelve days later, they had me.

My sister and I were never close. I don't know if there's a real reason for it, since I don't remember much from my childhood. What I do know is, that we fought. A lot.

We argued about silly things, that were meaningful at the time. Who could have the last cookie. Who could handle the remote control. Unimportant things.

Those things would become the trigger for fighting. As in real fighting. Kicking. Slapping. Scratching. Hair-pulling. Pinching. The whole ordeal.



When we wouldn't literally fight, we would argue. Scream at each other. Normally I would say that it was better than fighting. Normally being the key-word.

You see, when I was younger, I wasn't as verbally strong as I am now. My sister knew the exact remarks that would make me shut up, and therefore, she would win.

She would say anything to win.


One time, she said I was fat. Seeing the reaction that was provoced from me, she used it in all our arguments. For the rest of my childhood.

That basically meant that she would tell me I was fat, at least once every other day.



It was always clear to me that I was chubbier than my sister. It wasn't supposed to be like that, you know? The younger sister shouldn't weigh more than the older.

But I did, and it killed me. No matter how many times my mother told me I wasn't fat, I wouldn't believe it.
I weighed more than my sister did, and I was smaller then her. Therefore, I was fat.


My sister knew that weight was (and still is) a soor subject for me. But I don't think she knew what impact her words had.

I have to believe that. That she didn't deliberately hurt me.


When I grew older, the baby fat disappeared. Well, not exactly all of it, but my figure seemed to make more sense.
During high-school, I was actually pretty toned. Not that you would ever catch me saying, or even thinking that.

I rode my bike to school, every day. High school was 10 kilometres away from my house. So, that would make 20 kilometres of bikeriding, every day. 100 kilometres a week.

So yes, toned. But I still compared myself to other girls in my class. Girls that were slimmer than me, but also smaller. I never took that into consideration. I always just believed that I was fat.

Whenever someone would make a joke about me, goodnaturedly, I laughed along with them. But on the inside, I took that joke as the truth.

When I was sixteen, I started hanging out with a group of friends that made a habit out of putting you on the spot. Verbally.
In the beginning of our friendship, I couldn't respond. Never. Not to one single remark.

Somehow, I grew in that. I could actually turn the remark around, so that attention was off me. They somehow taught me to stand up for myself, verbally. Something I was never able to do.
They made it clear to me that although the jokes were funny, they weren't true.

How they made that clear to me, I have no idea. It wasn't something that was literally said. More like something that could be concluded from their actions.



In the meanwhile, my sister was still using my weight as a way to win an argument. When I finally responded, she was shocked. She scrambled to find something else to gain her win.
And it was suddenly clear to me. She never really meant the words. She just spoke them, without really noticing the meaning behind them.

I'm sure she knew that the words hurt me. Every time she spoke them. But I don't think she knew to what extent.



Before that became clear to me, I tried different things to lose weight. I only drank water and cut away all sodas, I would cut back on meat, I wouldn't eat sweets,...
But everytime my mother noticed these changes in my diet, she would throw a fit. Claiming that I didn't need to lose any weight.


She took me to our doctor. Hoping that he could make me understand that I had a healthy weight.
He tried. And maybe I believed him. For a second. Until I saw another girl, who was my age and slimmer than I was.



I remember watching a documentary about anorexia and bulemia with my mother. I don't think she noticed the internal battle I was fighting. Maybe she thought it would do me good. Seeing the disease.

For a moment, I considered it. Starving myself. Never bulemia.
My mind instantly threw that out of consideration. It was a waste of food. I couldn't throw up, deliberately. I hated throwing up when I was sick. I couldn't do it every day.

But during that mental argument, the fact that it's a disease never crossed my mind.

So I thought about anorexia. But I knew instantly that I just didn't have the willpower to cut out all my food. And I knew that my mother would notice instantly.


Luckily, it made me change my mind. It wasn't a possibility anymore. For the wrong reasons, yes, but I was one of the lucky girls.



The group that I hung out with, the one that taught me how to stand up for myself, was based on one thing.

Soccer.

All the boys in the group were soccerplayers. On the same team. So the girls went to watch every game.
I became friends with other boys on the team. With boys on other teams. Boys that were older than me.

And a lot of them were interested in me. Told me I was cute, sexy.
I found it hard to believe them. I don't think I ever believed them. But they set a doubt in my mind.
They could be so cruel to girls who were chubby. But they never were to me.


During that time I had a boyfriend. A real sweetheart. Considerate, caring. Too good to be true.
It didn't last long, but he somehow made me feel pretty.

He was the first one to call me beautiful.


From sixteen years old to now, almost twenty, a lot of things have changed.
I outgrew my sister. I was officially taller then her, and I had an excuse to weigh more.
And I had curves. Womanly curves. I had hips, a waist, but more importantly I had breasts.
A proud double D nowadays.

It was something I could use against my sister. She didn't have a curve to her body, and I knew that she was jealous of mine sometimes.
But I made sure that, every time I made a comment about it, it was in a playful manner.

So I wouldn't cause her the damage she once inflicted on me.


It's still a touchy subject. I gained weight the last two years, being in college, not riding my bike as often. It was hard for me to deal with.

I didn't want to change the way I ate. It's a healthy diet. So I watched my weight grow.
It took a lot from me not to change my diet dramatically.


I still compare myself to other girls. How they look, their weight. I take more things into consideration, yes, but I still do it. Even though I know I shouldn't.

I realised that when friends of mine asked me if my sister was anorexic.
If you saw my sister, you would probably think the same thing. Hell, I even doubt sometimes, but then I watch her eat.

She eats a lot more than I do. She eats candy all the time.
She doesn't gain any weight. Nothing.
Our doctor told her that, if she doesn't gain weight soon, she'll have to take medication to gain.

Kind of unfair, huh. I always tell her to take some of mine. As a joke, naturally. But not really.




My sister moved out of the house a year ago. Not officially, she just stays at her boyfriends house. This August, she's moving out. For real. They're going to rent a house.

And although I want to miss her, I don't think I will.
Our bond has grown stronger since I was sixteen. She defended me against boys (you'll hear that story later), and I defended her as well. She never makes comments about my weight anymore.

But still, I can't forget the damage she caused to my selfesteem. A selfesteem that already suffered from blows almost dayly in elementary school.

I've forgiven her, a long time ago. But I'll never be able to forget.


It will always stand between us. I don't see a way past it.

But she's my sister. I love her.
Even though you'll never hear us say the words, we know we do.
But I still won't miss her. Our bond isn't strong enough for that.


So, to every girl or boy out there, who is insecure about her or his weight.
Stop comparing yourself to others. I know it's an easy thing to say.

If you can't, take this into consideration.

- Some people are sickenly thin. That's not the way to go.
- If you're taller, you're bound to weigh more. It's natural, don't fight it.
- Boys like curves. Hell, they love them.
- Girls like them too. I do. Makes a boy way more cuddly.
- Everybody is different. If everybody was a size zero, zero would be fat. That's just the way it works.


Love yourself. Every part of you.
And believe that other people love you as well.


That's the best advice you'll ever hear from me.
Because it's a fact. People love you.

You just have to see it.


Until next time.

I love you. Believe that.

Jolien
xo

For your eyes only...

Hey you, whoever it is that's reading this.

A few warnings before I begin to tell you my story.
I probably am the most random girl you'll ever meet. One day I'm chipper as a bird, the next I might appear somewhat sad.
This blog isn't always going to be happy. Hell, this first entry isn't happy.
But it's honest. Brutally, sometimes.

To my friends I'm always chipper. Always a smile on my face, never one to tell anyone, except the best friend, that something's wrong. I don't know how and when that happened. It just did.
Somehow.

I was born on August 23rd. A summer's child. A ray of sunshine, on a sunshiny day.

For some reason, I don't remember much about my childhood. I just remember bits and pieces, and I go on stories my family tells me.

They say I was a happy child. Singing along to songs that I didn't know the words of, while walking on a crowded beach. Nope, that didn't faze me at all. According to them, I always liked the attention.

My own first memories start in elementary school. I was a member of a group that was, just, sick. Just like every group, we had a 'Leader'. Let's call her J.
J. always decided who in the group we couldn't hang out with anymore. She told every member of the group, but that person. We were 6 years old when this happened. Never underestimated the viciousness of some young girls.

For some reason, that person, who the group had to ignore, bully,... , was me a lot. During the time that the group couldn't like me, another group (a fun group) invited me to hang out with them.
My best friend was a member of that group.

For some reason, I always went back to the sick group. I always believed that things were going to change. That J. was done with her stupid decisions and power-trips. But they never did.

Secrets, that they found out through my parents, sister, sleepovers,... were told to the entire class. Kids would make remarks about them, but I never knew for sure that the secrets were out in the open. I had my suspicions, of course.

This never changed through elementary school. And still, to my parents, I was happy. I never showed it to them. The few tears that fell, fell on my pillow. In the dark.

One day, when I was 10, I had enough. I went to my teacher, and told her I was being bullied. She told me, and I quote: 'You're a big girl. Deal with it.'

I was shocked, to say the least. Here I was, finally strong enough to tell her what was going on, and she dismissed me. I still don't know why she did that, maybe she had a bad day, I don't know.

When I came home that day, my mom had been offered a job in another school in our town. She's a kindergarten teacher, and during my elementary school career, she was drifting between schools.
When I heard that she got a steady job for the entire next school year, I asked her if I could come along. She was sceptic, not sure if it was a good thing to do.

That day, I told my mother everything. At first, in the beginning of my story, she thought it was a little argument that I had with J. At the end of the story she was shocked, that a 10 year old girl could be so vicious, so mean. That she never saw it. That my teacher reacted that way.

The next day, she went to the other school and enrolled me. I didn't say anything to my 'friends' and classmates at school, until the last day of the school year.

I explained to them that I couldn't be in their class anymore. That it wasn't healthy. I didn't say any names, but everyone knew it was about J. and her group. My old group.

Other kids tried to make me change my mind. Promised me that things were going to change. Although I was very flattered, I knew that once the new school year began, things would go back to the way they were. My teacher never reacted. I still think that was a gutless move.


All of this had it's impact on my self-esteem. Which is absolutely normal. Every event in your childhood has it's impact. There were a few other events as well, which I'm going to save for other posts.

Needless to say, my trust in people faltered. Although I was welcomed with open arms in my new school, I found it difficult to trust them.
During that time I had my first 'boyfriend'. As I look back on it, I can't help but smile at our cuteness. The holding hands, blushing when he had to come to our classroom to pick something up from my teacher, the teasing looks of my classmates. He was a year older than me. I was 11, he was 12.

He probably was the reason I was able to trust again at the end of the schoolyear. My faith in peers had been restored. Somewhat.

He never knew of what happened in the other school. Nobody of my classmates did. I think my mom did tell my teacher, but he never talked to me about it. He always made sure I knew he was there to talk with, though.

That teacher is still my favourite teacher I ever had. He's the kind of teacher I hope to be in the future.


Hundreds of things happened during high school and the last two years. And what happened during elementary school still has an effect on me, on how I react.

Somewhere along the way, I became naïve. Too trusting. If someone was nice to me, he was a friend. Important. I would do anything for that person. This envoced some new stories. All of which you'll be able to read. In the next blogs.


About a year ago, I stumbled across JBFA. Jonas Brothers Fanfiction Archive. I started with reading the stories, finding comfort in them. In August, I wrote my first story.

I still think that, like my first 'boyfriend', this saved me. I finally had a way to channel my imagination, anonymously.
I met some great people on JBFA. People that I now follow on Twitter. People who are writing their own blogs, dealing with their own demons.

They are still saving me.

It's all in the little things they do. Or say. Or write.
They inspired me to write this blog. To write away the demons. To write about wonderful things that happened, or will happen in the future.
They know who they are. And they know I love them, even though I have never met them.

You already know more about me then a lot of my closest friends. Only my best friend knows about what happened. And I'm not sure she knows everything, even though she was there, in the same classroom I was in, for 4 years.

There are still many things I want to write. Want to say. But they'll be written in a different blog.

The only other thing that you should know now, is that writing and music are a huge part of my life.
A simple song can change the way you look at things. Can change the way you feel.
Especially the Jonas Brothers seem to do the trick for me.

I don't care if you like them yourself or not. I don't care what you think about them as persons. The only thing I do care about is that you don't judge them in any comments you may write here. They had a huge part in saving me. That's the most important thing to me.


If you want to know more about me? Stick around. I don't do censure. At all. Everything that happened to me, worth writing, will be in this blog.
The great things, the sad things. Everything.

I see this blog, for now, as a journal. My personal therapy. And a hell of a lot cheaper than real therapy.

So, for now, until the next blog.
I hope that you're able to face your personal demons. But even more, I hope you don't have any demons to face.

Whoever you are, a virtual hug from me. We can all use one from time to time.

xo
Jolien (Pronounced as Yolene. Jolene is a nickname, based on the famous song. Just saying :) )

PS. I sincerely apologise for any spelling/grammar errors I make in this blog. Although I hate them myself, English isn't my native language, and I'm bound to make them. Feel free to correct me. I'm eager to learn.