As I write this, I’m eating a leftover burrito for lunch and thinking about all the people who would never eat a burrito— leftover or otherwise—for lunch, So obviously, I’m being very gentle with myself today.
2019 has been a sorry one for me, and I know that, because I’m wheezing and spluttering to the finish line, and as much as I hate to admit it, cursing everyone that finishes with a better time than me. This year I confronted several painful facts:
- I’m thirty.
- I don’t own a home.
- I haven’t accomplished much.
- I don’t have any burning passions.
- I’m not that talented.
Some days, I confront these facts vulnerabilities one at at time, but today, I’m braiding them into a chain so I can wear all of them at once. Tell me I’m not alone in this. Tell me I’m not alone in feeling this unhealthy barrage of “you’re not good enoughs.” Tell me that some days, you wear the chain too, but most days you take it off because it’s just too damn heavy and you need to fly. Give me the permission to take it off too.
I can trace the themes of my life based on the themes of this blog. In 2019, I’ve felt aimless, in 2018, homeless, 2017, childless, and 2016, hopeless. And what I’m realizing, with no small amount of alarm, is that I’ve felt to some degree of another some version “of less” for most of my adult life. This isn’t isolated to this afternoon at all. I’ve felt the spectrum of it–the dulling apathy, the ethereal ache, the soul-bending wails. And in the middle of the happiest highs of date nights, and Swiss vacations, and having my 18-month-old showing me the moon on my earrings and the moose in his book, I have to wonder about the in-between times where, maybe just maybe, I’ve got a tiny bit of the D-word.
I don’t know that I’ve ever admitted it, by name to myself. I usually say, “I feel blue,” instead. So much safer. I wear my anxiety transparently because it’s so freaking obvious. I wind myself up like a toy– clucking and flapping–until the energy is spent. This hides a little bit deeper. It’s easier to disguise with belly laughs, and Halloween costumes, and instagram posts. I can tuck it in like a sheet. I can run it down, and shout it out, and I can scare it away with Hudson’s giggles, but I think it’s time to admit that it’s something that is just a little bit–more or less–there. Tell me I’m not alone in this.
I couldn’t tell you why I’m confronting it now, devoid of hopeful ray or tidy conclusion. But maybe acknowledging that I feel less will make me feel a little less less, and a little bit more.
Off to snuggle Hudson now.
You are most certainly not alone in this. It’s big and heavy and awful, that’s for sure. I am coming up out of a bad one myself just now. Lemme know if you want to hear my current mantras that are helping keep from tipping back into the void. Lots of love, Sierra.
First years is motherhood makes you feel so lost!!! I decided to try and start teaching my son and serve as many people as I could around me and that started to fill the void. I’m sure you’re doing this already but just letting you know that I CAN RELATE!!! You’re amazing! Hang in there!!
Not alone at all. I sometimes wonder how modern this problem is, or did other generations just cope better? Or do we just have that illusion? Did we just grow up with inflated expectations? Idk… but not alone at all. Maybe acknowledgement is maturity, and the way to move through it… <3
I’ve seen your posts recently and thought you had it all ❤️ I’m incredibly amazed with where you’re at and it’s what I’m working towards! It’s incredibly difficult to feel like you’re lacking or haven’t accomplished anything notable. I know how it feels to feel defeated, less, even if it is just less of a success. I try to let my anxiety do good. Let it be a motivating factor in the key parts of my anxiety that translate into my personality. And honestly, I’m nothing (I’m NOT Rachel) without my weakness. But it’s my biggest monster, as well.
Not alone! Leftover burritos are the gift that keeps on giving (imo)! The fact that you are aware, and can articulate your feelings this well around this subject, I’d say means you’re ahead of about 90% of the current human population.
You are not alone. Mid-summer I went through (and am still working through) what I call my 30-year-crisis. All those painful facts of life were hugely weighing me down and I felt like I had done nothing meaningful with my adult life. My expectations of what life was going to be have not aligned and I’m trying to find ways to reconcile that — trying to turn it into something I can be proud of whether that’s a change of mindset or of my goals. It’s slow. It’s sad sometimes. But I’m hopeful.
Not alone! Many thirty-somethings own neither home nor real estate in the history books. There’s a whole club of em! I’m a member myself! But remember, you and I are not the club’s founder. We’re not even on the board. We’re just popping into the mix-n-mingle for the free food, the chance to make some friends, and the opportunity (when it comes) to pull each other out of this pitiful party. Okay, this metaphor is starting to make me feel self-conscious as it has officially gone farther than I have in life, so I’ll stop while I’m not too far behind. Point is: you’re not alone. And I heard they’re doing a lottery later so I put your name in the bucket.