That's kind of everything. That's huge.
As a writer, I'm not sure I will ever be able to give people that "aha" moment. I try, but I don't really. I just try to convey my own thoughts without trying to connect the dots. I trust that others know what I mean. Especially those reading an anxiety blog...we all just "get" each other, right?
Kira Elliott did that for me today--she articulated something that seems impossible to do, and she got me. I bet she got a lot of people with the wonderful way she writes, conveys what she feels.
I don't always get to do that, being in copywriter/journalist mode. I'm all about the sales benefits, the who-what-when-where-why when I'm writing. It's so fleeting that I get to just write for the pleasure of it. (Perhaps that's why my book is such a slow-go. I want it to be more than a transcription of what happened...I want to connect dots, find the beauty in my uncomfortable experiences, and make it something that inspires others. It's hard enough to remember events that happened four, seven, twelve years ago...then to make it eloquent? Hard work.)
Even on here. I'm always trying to keep up...keep the blog fresh. Most of the time, I just spew ideas. I guess I'm okay with that.
Go read her post, though. If you've ever felt like you're not enough. It's a good reminder that you are enough. And that it's vital to pause.
What currently happens is I am filled with this drive to do more and be more. I am never satisfied. I am suffering. I am filled with hungry ghosts of not good enough. And here is where I get stuck, I want to change, let go of the habit of constant motion and extreme effort so I get out the only tool I have or really know how to use, the big ass hammer of extreme 120% effort. I go all in and try to change with 120% effort. I use the very same mindset to change what I want to let go. It is a mess because I fail at changing which then makes me feel bad which leads me to find something I can excel doing so I can feel better. The cycle loops around and around.
And...out of curiosity, who gets it?