For real though… A picture and title of how I imagined if my inner monologue were a person and quote looking this week.
I have kinda fallen into self-pity mode lately. I don’t know, I just haven’t been vibing with the trajectory of things. My common statement lately is that, “I feel both overwhelmed and underwhelmed simultaneously.”
It’s a crap place to be in.
I look around and everyone else seems to have their shit together so well. Do you guys really live like that? Are you just faking it really well? Meanwhile, I feel like I’m barely hanging on to maintaining a web-friendly presence without letting the truth slip out and that is: that I have no idea what the actual fuck I am doing.
Somedays, I am searching for plane tickets about to just impulsively book a flight overseas.
Other days I’m looking at rent-to-own houses in town about to plant roots.
(Literally having a roots vs. wings crisis.)
One day I’m a social butterfly capable of talking at ease with anyone, the next day a social moth that deters everyone from me.
Everyone’s instagram is so pretty with cacti, friends, brunch mimosa’s and cats. I couldn’t even fake it properly if I wanted to because my Android phone was $100 and takes low-quality pictures.
I think you know you’re unhappy when other people’s complains just seems more like a shit in your cut. Someone is lonely, unhappy, but I look at them contemplating what they hell they have to feel sorry for themselves for. They are healthy and trendy looking, probably don’t buy clothes from thrift stores because they have to, but because they want to, own their home, they drive a car from this decade, they have beautiful and healthy children, they have a loving partner, they have a stable income with flexible schedules. What could possibly be missing from their life? Their complaints seem more like humblebrags – and I know that’s a telling sign of internal unrest when you can’t empathize.
I have been playing the comparison game the past few days and it is not settling well with me. This girl has great hair, this girl has a cool job, this girl travels a lot, this girl is more confident, this girl is more ambitious, she’s a bad bitch, this girl is in such a beautiful relationship, this girl, that girl, etc., It had gotten me to the point where I have convinced myself I’m unsuccessful, untalented, ugly, and weird. Just a weird awkward ball of anxiety and shortcomings.
Then I start honing in on just my life. Just the things I want. Just the things that I need. Just me. Not listening, not even focusing, on what others are doing.
It’s great to have goals, but they should inspire you no discourage you. It’s a matter of practicing changing your thinking. When you feel discouraged take that as a lesson to encourage you to do better, be better. Easier said than done, I’m talking to myself here. (Interesting fact I learned, when people offer advice it’s often lessons they wish they could have absorbed at a younger age/ what they are trying to convince themselves. Don’t let my blogs give you the illusion I’ve reached a confident, solidified understanding of all of this – it’s all a work in progress.)
Rest at times when you need to. I’m incapable of this. I have really convinced myself exhaustion is an indication of work ethic or productivity.
I’ve spent the last year trying to ignore the trends of the things around me and focus on who “Logan” is. I thought I knew, but when stress reared it’s head I realized I’d lost myself in a facade of trying to be who I thought I was supposed to. Logan is a complex individual. There is nothing simple about me, and there is nothing simple about you (likely, I mean you really might be quite the simpleton.) That is the most interesting part about getting to know yourself more is that you’re more honest with yourself and in turn with others. I haven’t been able to fake my interactions as well as I used to be able to and the result of that has been interesting – some people open up and really share their thoughts as well and I feel this connection and inspiration. Other people keep up the charade and it’s a little discouraging, truthfully. But, I’d personally rather risk rejection from being honest than approval from acting the part well.
I don’t know what you want. But you’re probably okay.
Yes, someone is better than me. But then I consider the standard. Is that my standard? Is it imposed upon me? By whom? How do you gauge that? It’s pretty subjective and if I am going to try and define your happiness by appeasing some societal or social standard I might as well just call yourself Polly because I’m likely jut parroting everything taught to you. At some point I have to get creative with your standards. I’m good with creativity Okay, so we got something I can work with here.
I won’t life to you I want to be appealing in the eyes of society. I want to be seen as beautiful, smart, successful, capable. But, these standards are so hard to achieve because these standards are of an “ideal person.” Nobody is ideal. Nobodddddddyyyyyyyyy. I always think about beauty products and which came first, the problem or the solution? That’s life. I gotta decide what matters to me, and I think you should do that for yourself too. For me, feeling matters. Feeling like I did good work at the end of the day, like I gave my best effort. Feeling like in the face of hardships I remained kind and compassionate. Feeling like I am “good” by morals and standards I have assigned myself.
I’ve not had a horrible life, but I’ve certainly had my own struggles and hardships that others haven’t had. When I consider that, and the many myriad of ways I could have manifested that angst and contrast it to what I have done I have to say I am pretty proud. I still love people, I still trust people, I still care about the human race.Sure, I have my supreme fear of commitment in any shape or form, and an inner restlessness I am uncertain will ever go away, but I show up to my life.
Woody Allen said something about that, that like 90% of success in life was just showing up.
So just show up. One foot in front of the other. Figure out what you stand for and fuck the herd of individual thinkers.
Fuck what I’m saying, for that matter.