I'm currently reading a book entitled The Anxiety Toolkit: Strategies for Fine-Tuning Your Mind and Moving Past Your Stuck Points. I probably should've started the summer reading it, but I think I was
avoiding what painful truths the book might lead me to discover. That's
exactly why I need to read it though, right! This makes me think of a
quote in Lena Dunham's book Not That Kind of Girl that reads:
"the most terrifying aspect of human health is our refusal to take steps
to help ourselves and the fact that we are so often responsible for our
own demise through lack of positive action. It makes me want to take a
nap." The last blog post I wrote several months ago had such an
uplifting tone to it, and I can reread it and recognize that those were
my thoughts and words, but right now I feel so disconnected to its
message. Ideally, I'd like to see consistent progress over time with my
mental/emotional health, so it's definitely disappointing to admit that
I'm feeling stuck. Although, I have been learning, especially in the
last two years, that it is fucking hard to change.
My mind is a scattered place and I always seem to be running into writer's block. It's difficult and disheartening for me to write coherently with such a jumbled inner monologue. I thought I had developed a strong sense of self throughout college, and while there's certainly truth to that, I am also full of contradictions that keep me very confused & frustrated.
Most people would describe me as a positive and kind person. I often struggle to extend that positivity and kindness to myself. I am way more pessimistic about my future and my capability to change than people probably suspect. I preach body positivity, but would easily tell anyone that my dream body would be 15 pounds thinner than my current state. I consider myself to have strong feminist and liberal views, but I attach a huge amount of shame to my lack of intelligence regarding politics and economics. I will say that I prefer being single and living independently, yet I still scroll through Instagram inspecting other girls' profiles wondering how I could also be that desirable to the male eye. My heart flutters when I hear leaders I admire talk about how one's individual actions and involvement can make a real difference in this troubled world, but I rarely volunteer or donate. I'm sure that life is best lived boldly with treasured people beside me and passions to pursue, yet I am most comfortable in my solitude, depending on mundane routines that are chalk-full of distractions preventing me from facing my shortcomings.
I am acutely self-aware, and while that has its benefits, it can easily become a burden when I, like Lena wrote, am the only one who can influence my improvement, but I don't. I beat myself up asking, WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO LOSE LIBBY?! I am so hesitant to do things differently, to make impulsive decisions, be they big or small, and to deviate from my comfort zone. This reveals two things to me: 1) anxiety has a hold of me more than I'm willing to realize 2) I have to stop seeing joy and pride as these intangible things that wait for me in some distant land wherein I'm a totally new person. I know I've grown a ton over the years, and I shouldn't discount the many instances in which I've implemented beneficial changes that challenged my disorder. However, it is apparent to me now that my long-lasting inner battles stem from either fear or a lack of self-acceptance. I don't need to delve into which contradictions require what type of resolve; that's for me to journal about and discuss with my therapist. Honestly, I just needed to write and ramble, which is something I can do if I give myself the permission to. I decided a long time ago that this blog would my special, personal platform to connect with myself & others, but I often neglect it when I get overly insecure about the emotions I'm experiencing.
And maybe you're reading this and thinking "Oof, Libby, not your best," but I needed to stop putting pressure on myself for every one of my posts to be well-written and moving. I know I have to start putting content out simply for the sake of doing it, because that's the only way I'm going to become a better writer/storyteller. This post has no real end goal, but it does reaffirm my belief that vulnerability and sharing the worry that builds up within me is worthwhile.
I hope some of you can empathize with my declaration that being human is messy and overwhelming. There's a lot we don't get right, but maybe that's not the point—maybe we're supposed to make peace with getting it wrong because there's bravery and lessons in that too. It sucks to have periods of feeling lost, doubtful, and unmotivated. It's so hard to change. It's sometimes even harder to come to terms with the ways you won't change and what that means for your self-confidence. It's scary to know you have a substantial amount of work to do on yourself before your soul can rest, and that work looks different for everyone (rightfully so). May we continue to find moments of grace and gratitude when it all feels like too much.
*An excerpt
from one of the books I've read this summer [I Might Regret This by Abbi Jacobson]. It made me cry and confirms
my inclination that none of us really know what we're doing, but it's okay to do it in our own way.
My mind is a scattered place and I always seem to be running into writer's block. It's difficult and disheartening for me to write coherently with such a jumbled inner monologue. I thought I had developed a strong sense of self throughout college, and while there's certainly truth to that, I am also full of contradictions that keep me very confused & frustrated.
Most people would describe me as a positive and kind person. I often struggle to extend that positivity and kindness to myself. I am way more pessimistic about my future and my capability to change than people probably suspect. I preach body positivity, but would easily tell anyone that my dream body would be 15 pounds thinner than my current state. I consider myself to have strong feminist and liberal views, but I attach a huge amount of shame to my lack of intelligence regarding politics and economics. I will say that I prefer being single and living independently, yet I still scroll through Instagram inspecting other girls' profiles wondering how I could also be that desirable to the male eye. My heart flutters when I hear leaders I admire talk about how one's individual actions and involvement can make a real difference in this troubled world, but I rarely volunteer or donate. I'm sure that life is best lived boldly with treasured people beside me and passions to pursue, yet I am most comfortable in my solitude, depending on mundane routines that are chalk-full of distractions preventing me from facing my shortcomings.
I am acutely self-aware, and while that has its benefits, it can easily become a burden when I, like Lena wrote, am the only one who can influence my improvement, but I don't. I beat myself up asking, WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO LOSE LIBBY?! I am so hesitant to do things differently, to make impulsive decisions, be they big or small, and to deviate from my comfort zone. This reveals two things to me: 1) anxiety has a hold of me more than I'm willing to realize 2) I have to stop seeing joy and pride as these intangible things that wait for me in some distant land wherein I'm a totally new person. I know I've grown a ton over the years, and I shouldn't discount the many instances in which I've implemented beneficial changes that challenged my disorder. However, it is apparent to me now that my long-lasting inner battles stem from either fear or a lack of self-acceptance. I don't need to delve into which contradictions require what type of resolve; that's for me to journal about and discuss with my therapist. Honestly, I just needed to write and ramble, which is something I can do if I give myself the permission to. I decided a long time ago that this blog would my special, personal platform to connect with myself & others, but I often neglect it when I get overly insecure about the emotions I'm experiencing.
And maybe you're reading this and thinking "Oof, Libby, not your best," but I needed to stop putting pressure on myself for every one of my posts to be well-written and moving. I know I have to start putting content out simply for the sake of doing it, because that's the only way I'm going to become a better writer/storyteller. This post has no real end goal, but it does reaffirm my belief that vulnerability and sharing the worry that builds up within me is worthwhile.
I hope some of you can empathize with my declaration that being human is messy and overwhelming. There's a lot we don't get right, but maybe that's not the point—maybe we're supposed to make peace with getting it wrong because there's bravery and lessons in that too. It sucks to have periods of feeling lost, doubtful, and unmotivated. It's so hard to change. It's sometimes even harder to come to terms with the ways you won't change and what that means for your self-confidence. It's scary to know you have a substantial amount of work to do on yourself before your soul can rest, and that work looks different for everyone (rightfully so). May we continue to find moments of grace and gratitude when it all feels like too much.
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