Why does every post need to be perfect and award-winning worthy? I feel compelled to highlight everything I’ve written and delete it. I wish my bar could be right-sized instead of never attainable-sized.
My fear cares most about another person’s perception of me; is the way I think acceptable to them? My fear wants me to stay connected to others, but my fear fears me; it knows my nature, sees how I push people away, and worries.
Living with me is also like having a “Come on; you can do it!” clapping and jumping and screaming cheerleader in your ear every minute of every day. It’s sickening.
I’d rather sit with the eye-rolling reject in the corner; they’re much more real.
I don’t want help. I want to be stuck.
I’m scared. I overeat sugar, and hearing about my friend’s pre-diabetic diagnosis at her yearly check-up – when I never go to the doctor – makes me afraid for my future. I haven’t kept up on my push-ups or yoga, and I hate myself for falling into this rut. I hate myself for hating people like our asshole neighbor at the cabin. Does he have to rev his truck at effing 10:30 pm like that?
I’m tough on myself. Yoga was helpful medicine for that.
I almost wrote I’m never good enough, but that’d be a lie. I know I am.
I keep a shit-ton of house plants alive. I have a garden sprouting, and it’s only March. I have a good marriage, and my daughter said tonight, “I love you so much Momma”. I’m a good dog owner. I put my all into my work, and although I’ll never be perfect, I’m growing every day. I am passionate about writing and learning Spanish.
I hear this thought in gaps, “Yeah, but.” And I’m not giving it space. I am a good daughter, sister, and friend. I am an awesome budgeter and organizer. I am an excellent duck mom. Although my north is a little off, I’m putting one foot in front of the other.
I am eating less sugar. I bought a ton of vegetables at the grocery store today. And even though I’m not working out, I have been doing a shit load of outdoor tasks, like sawing off branches and removing debris from the creek.
I’d say I’m enough. Love, Jaclynn