I sit in front of my computer screen. I stare at the blank word document. I check Facebook. I check my email. I scroll through twitter until I make my way to tweets I’ve already read.
I go back to the word document. My stomach sinks. Where do I start? How can I do this? My palms sweat. I go back to Facebook and watch a video of a cute hedgehog eating food that my friend has posted. I feel better. I look for more cute videos to watch.
Continue reading “Feeling like a Fraud”
“I don’t know how to answer. I wish there was something to reveal, some horrible secret about my childhood so we would have our explanation and they could feel sorry for me. I wish someone had hurt me so I could say, This is why. But I’ve never had an excuse for being me.”
-Glennon Doyle Melton, Love Warrior
Glennon is standing in front of her parents trying to explain her bulimia and alcoholism. And when I read the words I feel the same way. I’ve never had an excuse for being me either.
I am not a bulimic or an alcoholic but I wish I had a way to explain my anxiety.
Continue reading “Life’s Messyness”
My breath is short. I am trying to get enough air. I am panicking.
I want to go to back to school badly but when I see the price of the plane ticket, I feel like I can’t breathe. How will I afford this 5 times a year? Will I go into debt? Will I ever be able to get out? Will I ever be able to start saving for retirement? Will I end up alone, desolate, broke on the street?
Continue reading “Money”
Last month I spent a week on the North channel of Lake Huron with 85 family members and old friends. By day three, I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. I’ve gotten more introverted as I’ve gotten older. I couldn’t deal with the number of social interactions.
I was upset. This was suppose to be my vacation. This was suppose to be relaxing and reinvigorating. I felt drained and felt like it was the extroverts fault. Why were they subjecting me to this? I felt like they were predators that pounced when I wasn’t expecting it. I felt like they were vampires that sucked me dry. I felt brittle, withered, helpless.
Continue reading “Playing the Victim”