Here’s a little experiment. Gonna write half of this before my workout and the other afterwards and see if there is a change in tone etc.

I’m finding consistently working out is really helping my mood. I get so easily depressed if I don’t work out. That means getting on the bike or yoga etc. While working at the Guild easily adds 4 miles of walking to my day, its not a sustained effort and doesn’t bring on the endorphins I need to work out all of depression from my cells. I’m not as motivated to get on the bike as I’d like to be, it takes some coaxing to get me out of bed for one, dressed and in the living room. It then takes me another 20-30 minutes to begrudgingly get on the bike. I know if I don’t have my phone by the bed my mornings are very different. I’m not setting up my day to be in a mental scroll where I get nothing done. I really need to plug it in in the bathroom or even the kitchen so it’s just not accessible. It’s a weird addiction that I get little to no pleasure from- maybe it’s a bad habit, not an addiction.

Something that Jess and I spoke about yesterday was “what will it take to fundamentally feel good enough?” as a human, and then as an artist. It’s seems like a silly thing to even have to grapple with. But many woman I know are perpetually managing the dichotomy of feeling worthless and trapped and misunderstood, and angry, and exhausted from all of that.
I know the “right answer” is I’m already enough, but I don’t know how to embody that and truly feel it. I know there’s a parallel between this challenge and the past self who spoke horribly to herself, demeaning her, calling her stupid out loud, constantly berating her. I used to do that all of the time. I told myself that if I didn’t I would lose my “edge,” my ability to see my faults and do something about them. Obviously it took me a while to realize that wasn’t true. I’ve chilled out a lot, maybe too much, in terms of being a capitalist work horse who never rested and never took care of her emotional self. Am I happier? I don’t know, I’m definitely less on edge and nicer to everyone around me, including myself. Less rigid. The drugs definitely help.
The whole fake it till you make it mentally I feel can be replaced with be nice to yourself until you believe it. Sounds way easier than it is to actually do that though.
K- am gonna work out. lets see what happens.

Ok- post workout. Hmm. Also post many other things. I woke up this am and opened windows and a door in our bedroom. Its breezy today, not hot and muggy like it has been. It was really lovely just to be in bed, feeling the breeze, watching the trees sway, and hearing the birds chirp. The nature that surrounds us is incredible and it makes me so happy. I know there’s something about gratitude that helps ppl feel better about their lives, it just feels so…. again…. fake. fake it til you make it. It’s not that I’m not grateful for this magically place we live, I am, but spending time being grateful, or a gratitude journal has always seemed weird to me. Is gratitude just a deeper sense of joy? Who am I grateful to? Rich, the planet? I don’t really get it. I have a hard time allowing myself to let go and feel joy, excitement, accomplishment, or pride. Nature brings out the joy without me having to think about it. The little birds on the feeder, the foxes rolling around in the backyard, a deer in the driveway as I come home from work. Where is the break between the one-antlered deer and completing a massive mural? I see all the things I did wrong with my work, it took too long, I don’t like the final composition etc…. the deer owes nothing to no one. Is this even a fair comparison? Why is joy missing out of my life when it comes to ME? Why can’t I take a moment to feel proud, to BE HAPPY when looking at my accomplishments, or not even accomplishments, just being me? Is it about not being present in the moment? Maybe. maybe.
I was also raised to be modest…. girls and modesty. Gross, talk about a societal construct to keep us needing permissions to fucking achieve anything. But honestly I never pushed back on that because from early I already thought I was part of why my parents broke up, or really that I wasn’t enough to keep them together. There it is. I wasn’t enough.
I am not enough is literally what my emotional, personal, and mental foundation was poured with. Not enough soup. Not enough mix. That became the floor that I stand on. The shitty cracked concrete that heaves when it freezes too hard, and allows the cracks to seep in. It’s why I dated Sid for 5 years. My self-esteem has been in the fucking toilet MY WHOLE LIFE. I’m never thin enough, smart enough, talented enough, working hard enough, beautiful enough, rich enough. People-pleasing and desperate for love since the get. I was boy crazy before I was 6. Constantly trying to mold myself into whatever I thought some stupid boy wanted. FOR DECADES. It’s horrifying when I look back at my former self. I even do it now, though not as much, but it’s still there, very much there. How am I eight years into a relationship and still trying to pretend to be a perfect version of myself that Rich doesn’t even notice? LOL. I twist myself into pretzels he doesn’t even know exist. It’s one thing to say just be yourself- it’s another to unlearn the decades of perpetually changing the goal posts because I only learned how to mimic… not sure if mimic is the right word, but I have always tried to fit into a box that I think someone else already sees me in, or wants me to be in? Why the fuck am I trying to fit into boxes that other people make? I’ve spent my life living and working outside the proverbial box.

That cardboard box still haunts me. During the divorce I was like 6ish (?) and there was a cardboard box that I had in my bedroom. I got into it and sat there for what seemed hours (it was probably minutes) trying to commit suicide by suffocating myself. I attempted suicide at 6. Thats some dark shit to mix into one’s foundation.

So, aside aside, I get so confused when I try to reconsider and rewrite the narrative of my standards, my understanding of what is good enough, how I feel good enough. I’m so terrified of mediocrity that enough just feels like a easy out. A way to just give up.

What are MY STANDARDS?
I think I first need to become constantly aware of my needs. I always think about and care for others first. I don’t actually need a lot, but that thinking is also based on years of making myself small.
I could go in circles on this forever. The standards seem to slip my mind because I haven’t written them down. That’s for the next episode. When I know my standards, that will help me move towards understanding how to feel good enough. I think. If not, it’s a good exercise anyway. Till then….