I have not been finding my voice this past year.
I’ll maybe get into things in more detail in the future but suffice it to say it’s been a long, rough year. I moved twice, once from a horrible, mold-ridden apartment into an only somewhat less horrible second apartment in the same complex, and then moved in with my brother and sister-in-law, which was a huge relief and blessing in disguise for everyone. I’ve been very sick because of the mold exposure and sugar addiction problems and just plain eating very poorly and not taking time to care for myself and my body.
It’s time for some really big changes. And I’m not just saying that because it’s a new year. I’ve been thinking about needing to make some really big changes since my 30th birthday in September, and really for most of 2016. I just didn’t know where to start. I don’t want to live a life where I feel like I’m just getting by or just barely doing what I need to do to survive life.
I haven’t written anything at all since I think April of 2016. It’s bad. I love writing so much and haven’t even attempted to tackle it for a long time because I’ve been afraid or something. My depression has honestly been good, almost non-existent. But my anxiety has been worse then ever. I do believe my antidepressent may actually be causing increasing anxiety and I have to tackle it head on. No more avoiding because it is definitely making my mental health much worse.
Every time I’ve thought about sitting down to write again, the dark shadow would come along and choke me, and I couldn’t do it. I’m not sure why it got so bad. Usually writing is what keeps me sane and able to manage things. But I haven’t even written anything in private just for myself either. It makes me sad. And angry. And disappointed in myself, yet again, for failing to stick with something, yet again.
Life is so fucking hard sometimes. I want kids, I don’t want kids. I want to travel, I’m afraid to travel. I want to live in another country, I’m freaked the hell out to live in another country. I need to deal with my mom issues, I can’t deal with my mom issues. To say I’ve avoided doing things because I’ve been afraid is the biggest understatement ever. It’s all I’ve ever done. Be afraid.
I think my mother made me feel afraid. Afraid of life. She was never happy. Not ever. She and my father had a terrible, hateful marriage. Even though I did everything, she was never happy enough. And then she left and by doing so solidified that I was utterly unimportant to her. That there was something wrong with me. That there was something about me to be fearful of because I wasn’t worth staying for.
I’ve spent my life attempting to be invisible. Trying very hard to not make a big splash or cause any controversy. I am definitely a peace-maker type but mostly I just avoid because I HATE confrontation of any kind. So I shrivel up into my little shell and stay there so I don’t have to confront things or people. I’m often uncomfortable with compliments or recognition because I have a hard time believing it comes from a place of sincerity.
I’ve tried so many things in 2016 to make myself feel better. To get rid of the very often crippling anxiety. I’ve tried different workouts, many different diets, drinking, staying home and doing nothing, sugar. And I’ve failed over and over again to stick with anything good or wholesome. I know my real problem is consistency, but I get impatient very quickly when I think something should be working and it’s not. I’m not good at “thinking outside the box” and finding other ways to do things or solve problems so my pattern is to move on to something else before I’ve even given the previous thing a chance to work. It’s a serious flaw I have.
I’m putting it out there now that I want to do a lot of things this year. I want to write a book. I want to write a children’s book. I want to become a certified newborn care specialist. I want to find freedom with food and not feel like a slave to sugar. I want to have fun going out without feeling pressured to drink in order to have fun. I want to lose fat, gain muscle, and feel strong in body, mind, and spirit. I want to become confident in the kitchen. I want to read 2 books a month. I want to travel. I want to love again.
I’ve never been a list maker or a goal setter or a planner. I’ve always just hummed along and let whatever is going to happen happen. I’ve seen many people talk about having to let go of their perfectionism and obsession with list making but that’s never been me. I realize that is not a way to live but it is a seriously huge shift in thinking to go from not ever planning anything to being a planner and a goal setter. It’s something I really want to do and am going to have to work at because I know I need to if I ever want to accomplish any of the things on that list above. Any planners out there have any advice for a newbie, I’d be grateful as I feel a little lost at where to begin.
Writing really is my passion and I can’t let it disappear from my life because of fear. I don’t want to end up regretting letting something I am passionate about and good at go to waste. I don’t know exactly where things will go from here…
But I’m back, here again, hoping someone is still at least marginally interested in what I have to say. And if not that’s ok too. I have to take a leap even if no one but me cares.