Important housekeeping update over here about paid vs. free subscriptions!
I sometimes look in the mirror and think, “Weren’t you supposed to make something of your life by now?”
It might sound mean — but it’s one of my tamer negative thoughts.
I try to think of all the things I’ve accomplished and the friends I love, who I know love me back.
It’s not that I’m not grateful — there’s just this boulder in my path that I keep coming up against again and again and again. And I can’t quite figure out what to do with it. Do I demolish this boulder, or just keep facing it, over and over again?
In some ways, I’ve definitely separated my self-worth from my resume. Someone recently used the phrase “divorcing my self-worth from my resume,” and I really love that.
The positive assumption is that I can feel good about myself, no matter what I’ve accomplished externally. But on the other side of the coin — I can also feel bad about myself — no matter what I’ve accomplished.
There was a point in time when, looking back at testimonials, comments, and kind messages from people telling me how my writing and my coaching have affected their lives would instantly make me feel better. Just the other week, one of my oldest friends sent me the sweetest text about how she always feels lifted after spending time with me. Last night, I found an old Facebook message from college that someone I don’t know very well sent me after seeing my first play, FINE.
I know the tangible, measurable impact I’ve had on people’s lives, and I’m so grateful for that. Acts done for others are never entirely altruistic; we’re human, and we feel good when we help people.
And yet, sometimes that feeling fades. We wish we could do more. We wish that we could have a larger impact. We wish that our own luck could change. We wish that our lives could change the way that other people’s do.
At least that’s how I feel.
I’ve made friends with envy (often confused with jealousy), and I’m now pretty quick to identify what I’m longing for when I see someone with something that I don’t have. There are times when I’m somewhat proactive about my envy and take steps to figure out how I can move closer to what I want. But sometimes, I succumb to the “why not me?” feelings, as we all do.
Why don’t I have a brand deal? Why don’t I have kids? Why didn’t I meet the love of my life in college?
Eventually, the ‘whys’ grow more accusatory,
Why haven’t I paid off my credit card debt? Why haven’t I written another book? Why did I stop acting? Why isn’t my house cleaner? Why am I such a slob? Why do I let the dishes pile up?
Why haven’t I “made it”?
Are there tangible things I’m supposed to be doing that I’m not? Am I supposed to do more positive affirmations? Should I cleanse my house?
I don’t have any answers or cures. I never do. I’m just here to write the stuff that I’d like to think we’re all thinking — to help myself (and hopefully you) feel less alone.
I do know, logically, that I have “made something of my life” regardless of what my brain tries to tell me.
I feel kind of haunted by the reality that I have no idea how much time any of us have left on this earth — and that thought makes me feel really grateful and really disappointed. I know that at 30, I have a lot of things that people go their whole lives without. And I also feel pretty far from a lot of my goals and dreams. I have no idea how far I am from achieving them. I like to think that everything I want is right in front of me or just around the corner. And then I find myself crying to my therapist, and wondering if there are just some dreams that aren’t meant to be mine. Is it time to give up some of those dreams?
It’s painful to write that sentence. I picture my younger self asking me that. Picturing my younger self always softens my heart and silences a lot of my “bad thoughts.” Most of the time, I believe in the little girl in me more than I believe in the capable, resilient adult woman in the mirror.
A few weeks ago, a woman wrote her farewell note of sorts on Threads. Thousands and thousands of people came to her aid and begged her not to end her life. They offered personal support, solidarity, and resources. Just as I was about to chime in, I saw the update that this young woman was overwhelmed by everyone’s support — and decided to seek mental health support in her local area.
I would never ever tell someone else to give up. No matter what they’re facing. No matter what their brain is telling them. I wrote Please Stay, Please Stay, Please Stay and shared the story of both my suicide attempt and many, many ideations — to provide support for people who need it.
“Weren’t you supposed to make something of your life by now?”
“Aren’t you supposed to have a 5-year-old by now?”
The voices are relentless. We often talk about our inner critics like whispering snobs in an art gallery. Mine are dangerously angry sports fans in the 4th quarter. My inner critic is louder than my upstairs neighbor, who has been watching sports-ball all weekend.
I’m not going to tie this up with a bow. As I said, I have no answers or cures. I’m just here to write the stuff that I’d like to think we’re all thinking — to help myself (and hopefully you) feel less alone.
I hope it helps. Even if there are no answers or cures, I can’t deny that it helps me. Even if my inner critic is screaming, “WHY would you admit all this to the internet?” I know that showing up and letting myself be seen has changed my life for the better.
I think that showing up and talking about all of the big, messy shit we push down all day long matters. I think this part of my story matters.
And the more I say that, and show up with this part of my story, the more I prove that the big, messy parts of your story matter too.
There’s room for all of me. And all of you.
Okay, maybe I did tie that in a little bit of a bow; I couldn’t help it.
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