being honest with myself

Another week of just getting by. How many more of those do I have left in the tank? My friend’s are being diagnosed with terrible sicknesses. Two family members have died in the last semester. No one seems to know what they are doing and always seem to actively be as confused as I. At what point do you take matters into your own hands and comprehend just how short life really is. When do you just be honest with yourself and decide to go for it and live the way you desire again. Completely selfish and foolish but still fulfilled. 

This week, I made the first step toward self-fulfillment. I set myself on a deadline. Fair but tough.

My lease ends in September and I must have a true, actionable escape plan by July for what comes next. Do I want to try to open up that bookstore cafe I always bring up to myself? Do I want to travel abroad again? If so, where and how. I feel pulled in so many different directions these days that it is a bit of a toss-up as to what I really desire. Because currently, all I desire is the merciful release of sleep and alcohol. I wish I had someone around to tell me what to do and how to accomplish it. Sitting here staring at 16 tabs on google chrome, each filled with a different world of possibilities and worries is overwhelming and more than a little terrifying. 

What if I want too many things far too much and end up instead doing none of them but falling into a same old routine. In my head this is unacceptable but yet I have made no progress toward the future. I sit here working two jobs, grinding my teeth against the cold steel of the day dreaming about a world where it would leave me be. Where nothing is expected of me and I am able to live free of obligations. Admittedly, this fantasy shortchanges both myself and the people around who love me, it is one to which I fall victim and I know others do the same. Maybe this is some side-effect of a 26 year long anxiety-ridden amygdala or maybe a vision that calls to me from somewhere far beyond from a merciful deity. 

I know I am not alone in this. I remember discussing with my college girlfriend, who also suffered from extreme anxiety, these same escapist fantasies.

“I wish I could just be a nun in Italy. No one ever to see me again from back home and no responsibilities except to the land. I could work on a vineyard and live out the rest of my days happily I think”. These were more or less her exact words and I’ve never forgotten them.

Mostly because I agree so wholeheartedly with that statement. Something about lying to ourselves and indulging in these false realities is so powerful. It allows our minds a rest for the moment with a much happier idea. It is the basis for Cognitive Behavior Therapy, except that forces one to replace bad thoughts with more realistic and balanced ones. So not quite the same. 

Being truly honest with oneself is recognizing that these runaway thoughts are probably a symptom of something much deeper and complex than just being sad and idealizing another exotic destination to make ourselves feel better. It took me a long time to realize that. Daydreams are coping mechanisms. I keep thinking that being somewhere new will fix that. I get stuck in a mental rut and assume the way out to be moving somewhere else far away where I don’t recognize the people or the scenery. This is a fallacy and I am able to be honest with myself to admit that for everyone. 

I have been doing that again lately; once again desiring, yearning, itching, coveting to travel. But I recognize it is partially for the wrong reasons. I need to be real and admit that. I tell everyone that I need to be gone from Franklin and go back out and travel. And while I do still indeed want that— it’s been my dream for as long as I can remember— I also need to recognize it isn’t going to solve my problems. If I go out there and start working as an English teacher in South Korea or a bartender in Australia, I am still going to have the same mental struggles that I have had since the beginning of my life. What is going to happen once I hit a dead-end in a foreign country? How many times can I pack up and leave before I run out of room? It happened leaving Florida and going to Germany. Then, when it hit there, I panicked and left back for the states. Back in Florida, I ran away to Tennessee thinking maybe this was the future but now— here I am again. 

Being honest is also admitting that this might be too harsh of a stance upon myself. I feel I have always been fairly realistic and self-conscious of myself and who I am. Armed with this knowledge, it has made my life a living hell but also one in which I can see both sides of my personality. I am downright evil to me. I am also aware of my strengths and I am the one most impressed with my achievements. That being said, I recognize that each chapter in my life has been just that: a chapter. A building block to carry me through to the next level of my life. 

While I am running from myself, I recognize that each new moment has progressed to the next and was a necessary step in self-progression. I learn more from what I don’t like than what I do. All these moves were escaping, but they were also building. 

Being honest with myself is understanding that I really don’t know who I am yet. This post is so back-and-forth because you get to witness an idiot have revelations in real time. I don’t understand who I am and maybe I never will. I recognize my self-imposed deadline stems from fear of unrealized potential and a hope for better but it also is the result of a failing personal image and romanticized daydreams. 

I still feel as though I am on the right track with getting back out there and traveling, I just want to make sure I am doing it for the right reasons. I want to feel sustainable. I also want to be surrounded by so much noise that the loneliness I feel bubbling up is clamped up tight. 

My dad texted me today, telling me that I am being too hard on myself and stressing too much. I think to hear that from him went a long way as a wakeup call to me. I am only 26, why should I be panicking myself into an early grave for no reason whatsoever. My only true obligations are to my rent payments and myself. I have the former covered yet that latter never seems to be sufficiently ameliorated. I always forget to take care of myself and then end up in a place where I am burnt out, strung out and sad. I want to change that. 

Being honest with myself is realizing that I don’t need everything in life. I don’t want everything in life. I just want to feel like I am on the right track. While I guess that isn’t something that most people probably ever feel— they just settle into something— I want to strive for the right thing. I want to make other people’s lives better with my being in them. At this rate, I might never like myself. But I can do my best to make sure no one else has to sit with that same feeling. That has always felt like my purpose and I need to find a way to capitalize on that. Maybe somewhere along the way I can make peace with myself. But sitting here uninspired, mad at life, on fight or flight mode is not going to help with that. In fact, its actively dragging me down. 

Let’s hope I can stick to my deadline.