Today, I am tired.

abcab915110254390a009c2bc38b1d68

Today, I am tired. Tired of retreats for freelancers and entrepreneurs being promoted on my Facebook feed. I don’t need any more retreats.  Tired of self improvement gurus telling me what I can do to improve my life. Tired of pages promoting a more exciting and more fulfilling life (I’m noticing a trend here, and listen up readers, I will clean up my Facebook feed).

What happens when life isn’t exciting? When the shit hits the fan so to speak? When a family member falls ill? Are you really going to keep to your morning routine? Or when you lose your job? Will you continue to buy that $4.00 latte? Or when your child is born and it’s not all sunshine and roses, but exhaustion and exhaustion, layered on top of exhaustion? What happens then, coaches? How do you get to that perfect life when you can’t even manage to get through each day?

I’m also tired of Colin waking up in the middle of the night and not wanting to go back to sleep. I’m tired of Evan and I being tired and just wanting to sleep (hello, new parenthood. you suck). Tired of coordinating shit between my babysitter, daycare, and my cleaner, of providing clarifications for shit that is super obvious. (Dumbfuck, I paid you more than a month ago. If you can’t keep your records clean, don’t come and harass me. And if you do, I will give you attitude.)

I’m also tired of my first world problems. (Like this morning, the shower water went cold and I was like: WTF why is the water going cold? And then my brain told me to STFU and be grateful for the fact that I have water and a shower to use.every.single.morning). I’m tired of superficial conversations that don’t matter. Of assumptions. Of Expectations.

Advertisements

You’re Not Good Enough

It’s a theme almost as common as water in my life.

water

It doesn’t matter how many times I realize it, my brain repackages the message and shoots it back at me like a guerrilla warfare specialist, telling me for the millionth time, YOU’RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH.

not good enough

At Babson college, that meant taking 17 classes in a year and a half.

I didn’t have time to think or breathe.

When I was 25 that meant working a full time job, commuting an hour and a half each way, enrolling in a master’s program, and training for a marathon.

I was out to prove that I was better than everyone else.

Except I wasn’t.

Today, I’m facing a professional transition, and I found myself plotting and planning.

How to increase my skillset by taking more courses, reading more books, until I caught myself. AGAIN.

And for right now, for this moment, I’ve had enough of this message, of this lie, of this bullshit.

Today, at 2:09 P.M in London, England, I am enough.

enough

This curly hair that needs washing, this crooked tooth, this good heart, are enough. RIGHT NOW.

photo (1)

Instead of planning to do Derek Johnson’s copywriting class so that I can get better at writing, I’ve decided to just write this out.

Such a simple, rebellious, action.

And instead of taking the Digital Marketing Specialization on Coursera, which looks cool and awesome, I’m going to focus on just writing and on looking for other freelance jobs.

Because I’m momentarily done proving myself to others.

See how I use the word momentarily?

I know I’m not done with this inner demon.