So if I'm being honest, I am really not being honest with myself. I probably haven't been for the better part of the last two years. I have been unhappy and my mantra has become "such is life." I used to say that when things went wrong but I knew things would be okay, and it swiftly became the negative way I described my inability to enjoy the things I once used to.
I am the queen of excuses.
I find myself overcommitting all the time, which leads to being overwhelmed, which leads to me not leaving my bed, which leads inevitably to cancelling plans. I am that person in your book that cancels plans all the time. I don't do it because I want to be doing something else, I've just fallen so deeply into this overwhelming haze that not doing anything at all feels less exhausting than leaving the confines of my comfortable covers. The catch is, after I cancel, I spend the next three hours cursing myself for not going. I overanalyze how people see me, and I never wanted to be this. I never wanted to be the person that cant be counted on to show up to coffee, or dinner, or the park for a kick ass walk. I don't like her, and I want to change that.
Two years ago I entered a relationship that came along with its fair share of baggage. He was a new dad with a complicated past and at the end of the day I just wanted him to know he was loved. Because I've known what it feels like to be alone in something, and I didnt want to leave him alone in this. So, I tried to become a part of it, a stable leg to the already wobbly chair that was his life. In the long run, fast forward almost two year, and I realized that I may have entered this for the entirely wrong reasons. I wanted desperately for him to feel supported, and loved, and cared for, that I truly stopped caring for me. I started declining health wise, I stopped leaving the house/apartment for anything more than work, and I became even more married to my job than I was before. I stopped exploring, I stopped wondering, I stopped caring. I stopped doing the things that were near and dear to my heart because I was lost in something that was so much bigger than me. I wanted everything to be amazing, I wanted to be this person that could fix all the little insecure feelings he had about anything in life. I wanted to be his cheerleader, his partner, and the person that helped push him to more. But it was very one sided, and as I began to realize I didn't come anywhere near first to him, I realized I didn't come first to myself anymore either. The brighter that red flag became the darker sunglasses I put on to block out the ever apparent sign, that this was not for me. I fell deep and ridiculously far down the hole of insecurity and let every little thing eat me alive. Here I sit writing this letter thinking how could I have let myself get so consumed and so lost ?
He came with a ready made family, so I thought I'd checked that off my list, after being told that I can't hold a child without it being high risk. I thought I was on the right track. But as you say, sometimes things you think are for you, aren't in your long term plan. This relationship taught me a lot, in hindsight of course. But it definitely brought to the surface a lot of things I didn't realize were there deep down inside that beautiful big heart of mine.
You talk about faith a lot, and normally that would put me off to a book, but theres something about the way you approach it that doesn't seem preachy at all. In fact, its made me wonder if a person, like myself, can have faith even if my beliefs are different. It's not that I don't believe in anything, I do believe, I think I just got lost. But your words have made me want to be found. I want to discover, I want to feel, I want to do more and reach more and be more.
I have been writing since I was in second grade, I am now twenty-five, and recently I have lost the love. I have felt like its a chore, like its something I have to do. It felt a lot like doing the dishes. In a way where sometimes you feel like doing them, but when you are told to do them, you feel like it was no longer your choice. I got to feeling that way as I started trying to make money off my writing took the magic away from it. I think that directly correlates with the fact that writing to me has always meant something different than those who set out strictly to make money off of the things they produce. I am a creator of content, however, I have always created the content for me. Not in a selfish way, but in a way that I would write through my tragedy. I wrote myself into a safe space and sharing that with the world and having someone connect was all I ever wanted but I didn't want to rely on that to keep the lights on. I wanted to be able to do that as well as whatever it was I did to make a living.
This is the longest and most honest piece I have written in so very long. My heart really connects with your message. I would love to get the chance to chat with you, because what you have set out to do is so very important.
Thank you for your words,