It’s been a very long time since I wrote or posted anything on here; but not because I haven’t wanted to.
I keep thinking about writing or about posting something, and then, my insecurities show up to the party. With that classic Mean Girls walk-in montage, they enter my thoughts and immediately make me feel worthless. The Regina George of the group says, “you’re not perfect, so why would anyone read your blog?” Gretchen Wieners: “Bloggers are supposed to be the role models of the internet.” Karen Smith: “#goals.” And Regina caps it off with “Whether it’s that perfectly plated recipe or their morning routine for the most productive day, they need to have their stuff figured to have any ethos on the internet or it’s not worth anyone’s time.” Translation: “my writing isn’t worth anyone’s time” and therefore, I shut down and I put it off.
I’ve been comparing myself to other people on the internet, other bloggers, the people I love to watch on YouTube, and I get down. That comparison is stealing the joy writing brings me.
Writing is my outlet. I’ve loved every kind of writing throughout my life. I collected diaries as a kid. I fell in love with journalism as editor-in-chief of my high school newspaper. In college, I fell in love with creative fiction. Through my mental health struggles, I have always kept a journal and whenever I have too much resting on my mind, I pour it out.
So, here I am, writing. To whoever is listening, I am not perfect, but I do love to write. And I don’t think you should wait to do the things you love just because of perfectionism.
Similarly, at the end of 2019, I knew I wanted to start seeing a therapist, but I told myself I would figure it out when I solidified a full-time position after my internship ended. I signed paperwork and started my new job on March 2nd and then, Seattle shut down on March 4th. So, then there was quarantine. I was barely wrapping my head around what staying at home looked like, what working from home looked like. I barely had a routine and then, I was laid off. So, long story short, it’s one thing after another and I have always said, “as soon as this milestone happens, I’ll seek help” and then another hurdle pops up.
I’m so tired. I’m so tired of feeling shitty. I’m so tired of not pursuing what brings me joy and I’m even more tired of putting myself last on my priority list.
I can’t keep waiting for things to be perfectly in place before doing what I love or taking care of myself.
So, I’m going to write more. I’m going to finally seek therapy. I’m going to live with my heart forward. I’m going to pursue what makes me happy because perfect and happy are not synonymous.