I'd been sleeping long past when I was tired. My cat hovered over my head to check on me, then curled up in the crook of my shoulder. I used her as an excuse to stay in bed for two more hours. And I worried. I worried that my gums were receding. Ever since that cleaning five years ago where the dental hygienist measured the gaps and seemed concerned. I worried that I'd always be broke. It had been over a year since I'd made a dime in my business and I forgot what making money felt like. I worried that I'd run out of food. Whenever the fridge had empty spaces, I couldn't get my mind off potential starvation until we filled the shelves again. I worried that my worry was keeping me stuck~ I'd live and die in this hump of boredom and self-doubt.
Why wasn't I more motivated and mentally resilient? I mean, some days I really had it down. I'd write, work out, eat healthy, meditate . . . and feel generally aces about my life. Other days, I was frozen solid, terrified of change, feeling like a failure . . . and too apathetic to get out of bed before 11. The in between days were a little bit of everything mixed in, substantial progress + habitual worry~ like a plateauing teeter-totter.
This kind of honesty is immensely unattractive. Easily avoidable. Gladly hidden. Just the kind of happenstance we place in the "things we don't speak about" pile.
But how can I ever move through something if I'm ashamed of it? Hiding what I believe others will look down on me for, hurts even more~ it amplifies the shame. I'm no less brilliant, creative, inspired or beautiful, because I open an honest heart up to the world. I'm a good ol' fashioned human being, that could look great on paper, but would rather be real in life.