Side note: I wrote this on March 1st, before I went on a solo trip to Peru, before COVID–19 was seen as the global problem it now is, and before I got laid off my job (due to the coronavirus as well). I can still remember how I felt when I wrote all of this however, and looking back I feel a lot of clarity through it. Like the title suggests — you know when you make a to do list, and then you lose it? No, just me? Damn.
Well imagine you make a to do list and then lose it, only to find it months later and realize that you actually accomplished quite a bit of the goals you had. Reading back and editing this post was kinda like that for me.
I also want to say that this is damn near a (messy) diary entry. But whatever. Let’s get into it:
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It’s funny how sometimes talking through a situation with someone after the fact can in a way be more enlightening than the actual situation.
I’ve had a tough week mentally, with things that I’m not going to go into detail with here. As I was talking to Jacob about my issues — in a very vague sense — I mentioned how I was the only fucking problem. Every issue I’ve ever had has been created by ME. It’s honestly ridiculous. My lack of patience, my perfectionism that feed this all or nothing mentality where “starting over” creeps up as some oasis that doesn’t even exist. My inability to think about the big picture. Honestly, if I look back at every “terrible” day of my life, I’ve been the deciding factor.
Which is even more depressing because I live a very privileged life. Sometimes I feel like a housewife who is stressed out about the curtains not matching because she has nothing meaningful to actually worry about. Everything is too vague. I need clarity. I need something to set my sights on. Something to aim for. And to my demise, I need to make money doing it. The whole concept of making money doing something I love is foreign to me. I wasn’t raised well when it comes to money. We never really had money and to me it was something that in a way you didn’t worry about. It’s like something that was swept under the rug my whole life. Ironically having food was more important than having an abundance of money, which is interesting to think about because what is it that buys the food? I just remember my mom’s credit card being declined at Walmart when we were trying to buy groceries. I remember thinking my mom just didn’t eat much when I was a kid, when in reality she was letting Jaz and I eat instead.
She worked really hard, cleaning houses, going back to school, making all As. I didn’t get much attention because she was understandably so busy and stressed. But I think I was okay with it. I didn’t want attention. I wanted to be left alone. I remember in elementary school I would come home and lock myself in my room and just zone out on the TV for three hours. Or I would gush over how thin Mary-Kate and Ashley were, later aiding in my eating disorder. My dad wasn’t around, and it’s weird to think back on those times and realize what I was lacking in those moments. Not to place blame on anyone, it’s not like I was going without food or anything of the sort. But because my sis was getting older and doing her own thing, and my mom was too busy trying to provide for us and keep her sanity in the process, I don’t think I got the attention I needed, or the encouragement to grow. I feel like I didn’t have any guidance.
It’s gives me insight to think about the past like that because it brings me to a somewhat harsh truth concerning my relationship to my family now. It’s like I’m running in circles trying to get things now that I needed then, but it’s not working. In fact, I think it’s hindering my growth.
Recently I was listening to this podcast by Gabby Reece where she was talking to Ryan Holiday about her mom making her dinner and she said something like, “I don’t need you to make me dinner now. I needed you to make me dinner then.” That exact example isn’t pointed at my mom or anything, but as the baby of the family, I recognize that sometimes I get treated as such. It’s like I have this unhealthy need for my mom because I’m trying to get what I didn’t have as a child. It’s almost like not having that need met then is making it difficult to move forward now. It’s as if I am still trying to get that comfort, but that comfort isn’t what I need to focus on now that I’m older.
It’s sticky with my dad as well, because although our relationship is good now, it sometimes seems very surface level. I guess that makes sense though. My mother raised me. There is a deep sense of connection there. My roots are in her. I wish I could let go of that feeling though, because in reality my dad is so supportive and I’m grateful for how logical he is. Even if I know that he supports me though, it’s like there is a wall up that says, “Sorry, I don’t believe it. Be on high alert.”
In reality, wanting his support now isn’t doing me any favors. It’s not like I am displeasing him in any way, but I feel like there is this part of me that just wants him to approve. If anything it could be stunting my growth because since I didn’t get what I needed as a kid, I’m not adept to take advantage of my opportunities in a proper way now. Instead I grasp at things I needed back then and it’s actually almost like this sedated, idealistic form that rises out of yet another type of scarcity.
Honestly though, we see what we want to see. And what we want to see can change in a flash. Which is the worst part — all of this is all in my head. It’s all what I want it to be. It’s crazy that I put myself in all these strange boxes. I encapsulated all of these boundaries around myself. I’ve had this little nagging voice inside me my whole life saying that I’m not enough. Give me drugs, give me food, give me alcohol. Consequentially, just numb the pain of all these stories I’ve told myself. Give me bad relationships to distract me. Distract me from myself and the inadequacy I’ve assigned to myself.
It’s all been a lie. It’s so dumb.
And let me just say, this is in no way a harp on my parents. They did the best they could, and they continue to do just that. I’m incredibly lucky. Really. But just as some people are stressed out by minor things, maybe some children need more attention than others.
In the end, recognizing all of this and taking responsibility for it now is what matters. Understanding that I can’t get what I think I needed then now. I’m older now. I don’t need those things. Now I need different things, different challenges. I can move on from the little kid inside me that needed those things.
Anyway, back to the date I went recently where I was talking about my problems in a charming way. Wink.
I was saying how I need to do more of the things on a daily basis that are going to get me closer to my ideal self and life, which led us to discussing how we envisioned our older selves — how we want our lives to be. The conversation made me think about this writing exercise I do from time to time. I guess you could call it manifestation writing, although I’m not too keen on that overused word. But within this writing exercise, you really just create space for yourself to day dream. You take time to write down whatever comes to mind about what you hope to be, but you word it as if it already is and in doing so you create the feelings you would have before you have what you think you need to feel them.
I hope that makes sense. I also do that in a form of meditating as well. I think this practice can be useful, because our lives are already filled with so many mundane tasks. Taking a moment to allow yourself to dream helps you discover what it is that you’re exactly aiming for. It’s like the difference in being busy vs. being productive. It’s easy to be busy, but unless you have a clear vision for your future, everything you do is meaningless.
(Obviously from the beginning of this blog post, I’m still trying to cultivate my aim.)
When I mentioned this writing exercise to him, he naturally asked me what it was that I wrote about. Which made me quite shy, and I immediately realized how intimate the conversation felt. It’s basically someone saying to you, “Hey, what are your deepest, most meaningful desires?”
And with that comes an even scarier question.
“How much do you believe that you deserve those desires?”
Because the answer to that second question can be seen in your daily life. The minute I admitted the guarded image of what I want my life to be like was the same minute that I had to inspect and examine my current behavior. Consequentially, that’s the same minute I had to admit to myself that I’m not doing enough.
What could be scarier than that? What could be worse than the fact that I may never achieve my ideal life and my highest self and if not, it’s all my fault.
Like I said at the beginning, it’s almost like I’m the stressed housewife. I’m not doing enough because I’m stressing myself out by all the wrong things. I need to be stressed in ways that are going to make me the person I hope to be. As Mark Manson says, the goal of life isn’t not to have any problems. It’s to have better problems.
I need some big changes to occur so that I can be the type of woman I want to be instead of this little girl inside who is grasping at straws, and not doing herself any favors. It’s insanity. But maybe the first step is working through these feelings and thoughts.
So yes, I’m on my way.