Tired of the battle with myself (journal entry)

Why are we so hard on ourselves? As if life isn’t hard enough as it is! We cut ourselves down with a sharpened scythe, hoping to fit in with people and places that don’t value us. We try so hard, gasping and screaming and gripping with blistered fingers at the edges of what we think will make us happy. If only I could make more money, I’d be happy. If only I had a hotter/smarter/funnier partner, I’d be happy. If only I could write another book, I’d be happy. If only I had a million subscribers, I’d be happy.

Happiness shouldn’t be a conditional state. Something we bargain and sacrifice for. It is a state of being always openly available to us, if only we are willing to see it.

But we are blind as a nation. We can’t see clearly anymore. We hate and hate ourselves even when we’re fucking perfect. You could have the best year of your life, and yet you’ll still find something imperfect and wonky to pick at. If only I’d done this or that, though. And then you prep for next year, when you hope to do and be better and bigger than the last!

Never satisfied.

If I collected all the tears I’ve shed over not being good enough, I could drown us all. Fill this dying world with salty water to wash away our toxic species. If I knew all the innocent creatures could survive it, maybe I would do it. Maybe we need to start again.

Your phone isn’t a mirror. Their comments aren’t your truth. The figures in your bank account aren’t your worth. What you produce from your mind or body isn’t what makes you valuable.

Next year I want to give myself a break. Cut myself some slack. I have had a great year this year, but I have been hard on myself, too. It hasn’t been one of gentleness, compassion and ease. Instead, a year of forcing and fretting and fear. A lot of beauty, but troubled waters dangerously boiling beneath the surface. And for what? To please others? To make a tiny bit more money? To write another story and another? To be prettier? To be smarter? To go further? To have a story to tell? To have a body worth lusting after?

For what? For who?

No. I don’t want that anymore. And sadly it’s not some easy switch to turn off. I can’t wake up January 1st and be the person I want to be. A woman of calm, certainty, and civility within. A woman who knows her innate worth and doesn’t beg for or seek to prove it. A women who knows what she wants and who she is and just lives. Just lives! Can you imagine? It will take some work but that’s what I’m working towards.

I don’t have time or space for critical people. Judgement. Anger. Resentment. Regret. Lack. Fickle fear. I don’t embrace my old narratives anymore.

I don’t want to be hard on myself anymore. I want to be the best friend I deserve. The big sister I never had.

What do you want? What do you choose?

Sincerely,

S. xx