Category: Uncategorized

[Image description: A screenshot of Allison taking a photo of themself. They are wearing tortoiseshell glasses, and a navy, yellow and orange striped shirt. Their hair is down.]

Hi everyone. So I really wanted to write a blog post today about my favorite quote, and I had, like, one of those moments of clarity where I start writing something in my head and I know that I have to get it down just right, but I don’t think I have time to actually sit and type something out, so I’m gonna try to record what I was thinking of writing about and then I will transcribe it later.

So what I was thinking about, that I wanted to write about today, is my favorite quote, and it’s by Albert Einstein, and it goes as follows: “The important thing is to not stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery everyday. Never lose a holy curiosity.” And that’s been my favorite quote for probably, the last five or six years. When one of my teachers was writing my recommendation for the Common App (throwback Thursday), she actually put that in my application. And I can’t remember if that was the first time I had heard it or not, but I’ve been thinking about that a lot and I’ve been thinking about what motivates me. You know, in finding out about having depression and all of the thoughts and feelings that that brought on, which was really difficult, I’ve been wondering, “what is it that’s gotten me this far? Why, why am I, I don’t know, I don’t even want to say the word hopeful, but why do I still exist?” And I think that that quote in particular is really important for that reason because there’s, I sound like a complete pothead which I’m not but, there’s just so much to life that I don’t know, and I think the thing that really motivates me is, you know, like Albert Einstein said, it’s enough if one merely tries to understand a little bit of this mystery everyday. And tangentially related, my mom is a teacher, and she made sure that growing up, you know, my siblings and I were always questioning everything that was happening to us, even the things that didn’t have answers. But really, questioning any and everything and having this healthy sense of skepticism, and so I think combined with that quote it’s a really motivating factor because there’s just so much that I don’t know – that I’ll never know.

And in having depression, I think one of the things that’s really difficult is feeling like the stakes of every moment are so high sometimes. And what I mean by that is that like, you know my anxiety is telling me, “Oh everyone’s paying attention to me, everyone thinks I’m an idiot, let me be skeptical of people actually caring” (that skepticism can be a little dangerous) but with the depression, it’s like, “okay well I’m just gonna stop. You know, I just don’t have it in me anymore to keep fighting and learning and all of that,” but something that’s really helpful to me through the depression is to keep learning and keep wondering about things and I think, you know, this quote is part of the reason why I was such an exceptional student is because I thought that you know, to be learning on a regular basis you had to be at school and I now know that that’s not true. And since I’m not in a formal school setting anymore, I’m learning all of these things that you don’t learn from traditional coursework right? Like about self-love and all of these different things that I’m teaching myself. And so the reason why I’ve been thinking about this quote in conjunction with depression is that I think one of the benefits of the diagnosis was that there’s this new part of myself – and new insofar as I didn’t know what to call it. Not that it’s new in any shape or form cause like I said in one of my last posts, I’m pretty sure I’ve had depression since I was a child.

So what is kind of getting me through day-to-day, and to be fair, I’m not in a depressive episode right now although I kind of feel myself skirting on one and it’s good practice now to not fall into that, like I’m learning how to prevent that from happening, and what’s been motivating is to be curious about myself. To learn all of these different parts of myself that I knew existed a lot of the time but I didn’t get to see on a regular basis, especially being a student. And, you know, one of the last times I journaled, what I was writing about was now that I moved somewhere by myself and had all of this adjustment to do and all of that, I thought I changed so much and then I’m realizing now I’m not changing – I’m pretty similar to how I was as a teenager, it’s just that I’m older and more life has happened. And so I’m…I’m, like I said, becoming curious about myself. And since I’m not in school anymore – I’m not affiliated with a school as a student, although I do work at a university which is now interesting, it’s been really impactful to see these new parts of myself and to apply that curiosity that I have to myself, to life, and extend it to other people as well – to hear what they’re going through, if they’ve gone through similar things – none of us are alone in the struggles that we face and…I guess, in conjunction with mental illness, something that’s very impactful for me personally is like the quote says, to merely try to comprehend a little bit of this mystery everyday, like if I can learn something however small every single day, that’s reason enough to keep pushing and trying and finding motivation even when everything in my brain is saying to stop.

So, that’s what’s been swirling in my head along with a lot of other things, but I wanted to make sure that I got those thoughts out. I’m getting ready for work so if there’s banging and rain sounds and all of that, that’s why. But I hope that this is important, or impactful for at least someone, and thank you for listening.

[Image: A boat on the water at sunset]

[Note on “The Boat”: For various reasons, I’ve been hesitant to share stories on this website. That being said, if you steal this, very very bad because there is evidence, now, that it was posted here first. I wrote this story when I was fifteen, ironically on the day I started dating someone who would later tell me I’d never be a writer. And to this day, it is one of my favorite pieces that I’ve written. Enjoy.]

Content: Suicide mention

Not too long ago, not far from you, a man sat in a boat. Often, he’d float aimlessly for hours. Almost every thought he ever had replayed itself as he rowed further from shore. He thought of the war, suicide, heartache and his sons. He’d wonder about Father O’Malley, who was far too wild to be a man of the Cloth, who never provided the solace the man needed. The waves took him in, coating his human worries with the smell of fresh saltwater and the sound as it moved.

 You see, the man used his boat as much more than a means of transportation. His rowboat was a vessel into his own thoughts, a map in the clouded, murky sea of himself; a flashlight of sorts, to see what was hidden long ago. The rhythmic splashes of water on his paddles soothed his scarred insides. At first, he’d wished his boat would tip over and the waves would take him. But the more he’d row, each time he was in pain, the more he went out, the more he grew to love his boat, and had a reason to keep going.

 It was a mighty “ship,” purchased at his wife’s suggestion. “Jim, you know how you love the sea – almost more than you love me.” The man, Jim, would hold her and say, “Impossible, the sea never gave me a beautiful family and something to come home to.” She was the most magnificent woman. The two walked into their small New England town, to the boat shop. There, the second love of his life was bought. Just once, he had taken her out to the very spot he was in now, and remarked at the beauty of it.

How he wished she were here with him. He had his second love, but it would never compare to her. He longed to join her, and live together once more. He looked towards the shore as he scribbled a note to whoever cared. He’d join his wife now, and that was final. His mind was clear and made up – as he stepped off his boat, leaving his second love for the first. 

Image from pexels.com 

Content: Descriptions of depression and anxiety

[Image description: A full moon lights up nearby clouds. There is a building with lights on underneath the moon]

Last week, I was diagnosed with depression. I’ve known I’ve had depression since I was about 9, but I’ve sought out a formal diagnosis because I thought that it would provide some sort of solace – some sort of ground to walk on, outside of the hole that depression causes me to fall into. And…that hasn’t happened. In fact, the diagnosis made things temporarily worse for me, because as several therapists have told me, depression isn’t an end-all-be-all. It’s a series of symptoms related to something bigger. And so in getting this diagnosis (which I did push for, because I thought it would help), I’ve had to reckon with what those bigger issues are and accept that they affect me in such deep ways.
I think all of my writing on this website, as well as my Medium article, were attempts for me to make sense of the depression, without specifically naming it or the situations that caused it. In thinking about having depression, I realized that part of my avoidance in naming it was this realization: I hate being vulnerable, and the fact that someone else can prompt a depressive episode seems like the worst kind of vulnerability. I’ve been more than willing to take stock of what’s been difficult this year, but the things that I haven’t wanted to claim are the ways that other people have hurt me in profound ways, whether intentionally or otherwise, because that feels emotional, not factual. And so for a time, this diagnosis made the depressive episode I was already in even worse, because I felt pathetic for letting other people have that power over my ability to function.
I’ve claimed anxiety since I was in high school, if not before. It felt tangible – real, with panic attacks, racing thoughts, and shortened breaths. And in time, once I started going to therapy in college, I realized that anxiety wasn’t just some condition. It wasn’t like catching a cold – my mind was trying to signal to me that things were wrong. There were reasons why I was having such awful panic attacks. I remember once telling my sister that I’d only had panic attacks in front of my partner at the time, and she said, “Don’t you think that means something?” At the time, I thought it was that I felt comfortable letting go. In reality, he was causing them. And in time, I became better at hearing my own thoughts and feeling the anxiety in my body more, to the point where my panic attacks have become few and far between.
And although the depression has also been real and tangible, in ways that are a lot more debilitating, I thought of it as some kind of personal flaw. As I said, reckoning with the depression meant recognizing its causes, and that’s something I’ve never felt prepared to do before now (and still don’t, for fear of falling into that hole). I’ve written it off as stress, being overworked, and other things that while real, were not the root cause of what I was feeling. I can’t begin to tell you how many times in college I said I felt “tired.” I wasn’t tired. I was depressed. And now, I’m left (on my way out of a depressive episode) to sort through all the shit that’s brought this on. This last episode alone, which spanned most of this month, I don’t know if it was caused by flying out of state two weekends in a row, seeing my family for the first time since moving and having to say “actually, it’s not going well,” a month long breakup finally ending in the worst possible way, or never fully coming to terms with the transition my life is in right now. I mean, where do I start? And I’m starting to truly wonder if the anxiety is in fact but a limb of the monster that is depression.
I share all of this to say that depression is a real, tangible thing, and writing it off as “life is supposed to be hard” can in some ways make it worse. I’ve been privileged enough to access therapists and many friends who manage their symptoms in various ways. And, in a convoluted way, finding this out has made me want to write and share even more. It made me wish that I had a place to go to, people to turn to, who I could hear from about what they were going through. And I do, but I’m not keen on asking for help yet. One of the hardest parts of this transition has been having no idea what to expect. And I want for my writing (and eventual podcast) to be a hub on all the things that don’t seem to have a space. There are resource guides for how to find a job, how to get good grades, how to dress better, how to budget your money and where to shop. But where is the spot for finding motivation when you’re on E, or letting people go when they mean the world to you? Maybe those places exist, but I haven’t found them in a centralized location. And maybe I won’t entirely be able to create that, but I’d like to and believe I can.
So, I have depression. And I’ve been thinking, too, of what that means as a Black person – whether that depression is in fact inevitable. But anyways, now I’m left to dig through the shit and perhaps in ways that are graceful and empathetic and accepting, but for now just feel scary.

[Image: Allison takes a selfie in the mirror. They are in their bathroom. Allison is wearing a white shirt that says New York.]

Since moving to a completely new state in August, my life has in many ways become a journey towards self-acceptance. After actively despising myself for most of undergrad, I wanted to stop that self-loathing, if for no other reasons than I was tired and came to the realization that I couldn’t be anyone else, so might as well start loving up on who I already am. This move felt like the best place to start loving myself, since I knew I’d have quite a bit of time alone. On this journey of acceptance, I’ve had to embrace not only the beautiful, strong parts of myself, but the vulnerable, soft parts as well.

I learned something valuable very early into being on my own. I didn’t actually know a whole lot about myself, especially in isolation. I could probably describe my leadership style and name a couple of hobbies, but how I reacted to struggle, where I felt most warm – questions like that I had no answers for. Upon being asked, “tell me about yourself” fairly often at work, I would begin on February 21, 1995 in Upstate New York. Rattling off a list of dates and events felt easier than saying, “I’m sensitive. I’m pensive. I’m considerate,” if I’d even think to say those things. And more than one time, whoever was listening would let me ramble and then ask, “but who are you?” And I’d have nothing to say.

So for several weeks, my 9-5 was getting acclimated to my field and having deep personal reflection to do (blame it on working in the non-profit, social justice world), and then I would come home and feel very…empty. Emotionally empty from loneliness but also personally empty, as if there wasn’t much to me besides these random accolades. Then I realized – I’m only thinking of myself in terms of my successes; in terms of these hard, definite moments in my life, and not the more fluid aspects of myself. What is my favorite color? What can’t I tolerate in other people? Why am I doing literally any of the things I’m doing? What do I dream of?

At first, that digging was kind of adventurous. I read old journals, and saw what situations if presented to me at 22, I’d react the same as I did at 19. I got to pat myself on the back more than a few times. But then, more of myself was revealed. Why were there negative similarities between all of my relationships? Why did I have the same insecurities after they’d been proven wrong time and time again? That self-acceptance didn’t feel good in the way I wanted it to, because I had to first understand myself as a perpetually, inevitably flawed individual.

As I’ve already written about here, this process hasn’t felt good by any means. Cutting people off, speaking up for myself when I’d rather not, recognizing that I can’t change certain parts of myself even if I wanted to – all of these instances in the last several weeks, months, have taught me that I need to succumb to my flaws. And I don’t mean recognizing that I have a hard time trusting people and therefore not letting anyone in. No – I mean, recognizing I have a hard time trusting people and letting them know that, and working together on how to make sure we can accommodate that.

In succumbing to my flaws, I’m recognizing to love all the parts of myself, even the parts that are jagged, so that when they pop up, I know what to call them. It’s saved me a lot of anger, frustration and anxiety with myself. Instead of denying those flaws, I work with them. Not even around them, but really with them so that I can feel fully myself in every situation, and not only allow my best sides to show. While journaling recently, I wrote that I no longer feel like a medium that life passes through. Instead, I feel like a structure with definite borders, capable of setting its own course. Knowing myself has meant knowing my flaws, and understanding that they’re here to stay. That doesn’t mean hating them. It means accepting them and moving forward.

This post was written as part of The Daily Post’s “Succumb” prompt. 

Succumb

[Image description: A white tabletop with notebooks, pencils, a laptop and a leopard print pouch]

In no particular order…

1. What would I be like as a parent?
2. What if I never cut my hair freshman year of college?
3. What is making me anxious right now?
4. When will I stop playing myself and finally get this damn sleeve?
5. How can I swap jobs with someone for six months? Or three months even? Can I become a brand influencer?
6. When will I not actively think about college?
7. What book should I read next?
8. Do people ever think I’m right-handed?
9. Are they thinking of me?
10. What kind of boss am I?
11. When will I look my age?
12. What do I want to accomplish today?
13. What is actually free in this life? Or at least in this damn city?
14. Should I make a podcast? What would it be about, though?
15. Should I write today? (Yes)
16. Could I write everyday?
17. Did anyone text back? Even if they did, would I answer?
18. Should I go out later? (No lol.)
19. What do I actually spend money on?
20. When will my therapist text back?
21. Should I wear that?

Image from createherstock.com. 

[Image description: A table with a black and gold table cloth. There is a book, a crystal ball, crystals, candles, a basket of sage and a hand statue on the table.]

Good morning, everybody. Happy Sunday-is-the-last-day-of-the-week-so-this-post-isn’t-late (editor’s note: it still is late, at least in being posted). I’ve been having a hectic week, as both this weekend and last I’ve been out of town, so I haven’t made time to sleep or create a blog post. I’m at the Sister Song Let’s Talk About Sex Conference in New Orleans right now, and it’s been an empowering space to reconsider who I am and what I do and what for. While I was here, I bought an agate (you can read the benefits – in a few words, it’s very focused on the self, which I need) necklace, and I was going to meditate with it this morning, but instead…I’ll meditate with y’all.

I want clarity for myself. I want peace behind me, in front of me, within me and outside me. I want to make space for myself to grieve what is newly lost, and space to welcome in everything new that lies in store. I want to feel full within myself, and realize that I am all I need. All I need is always going to be right in the room with me and even when it’s not, my voice is enough to ask for it. My intuition is strong enough to know what’s missing. I am accepting what other people can provide and learning that I have the power to choose who and what I let in – proximity isn’t a reason for closeness anymore, especially because outside of college, finding friends doesn’t mean simply walking into a room and finding a kindred spirit there. I want to give myself space to be hurt and recognize all the ways my life is in transition and give myself so much grace through that because it isn’t easy – it never is – but I’m doing it, everyday, so well.

I’m listening to my body now more than ever. I would write about how intuition is replacing words for me, but my superpower is being able to put those deep knowings into words. I’m hearing my body more and more and realizing that it doesn’t have to be juxtaposed to my knowledge. That internal wisdom is a form of knowledge. And I don’t need to justify myself so much for others. I crave being understood so badly, and having to explain one’s self so often is exhausting and unnecessary.

Although I feel like there isn’t enough self-care in the world to heal right now, I’m doing such a good job and I need to give myself credit for it. Therapy, eating well, exercising, sleeping as much as possible, baths, honesty, removing myself from situations I don’t want to be in, sizing people up better…all these things, I’m doing. And it doesn’t feel good, but I know it’s good for me. I feel like this phase in my life is a bubble swelling and swelling and once it pops, all of its goodness will spread out. But internally, I often feel swollen. My sadness is a swelling balloon, reaching across my abdomen and being filled with all the details of what hurts. My self-care is a balloon, swelling across my time and filling with all the practices I’m learning. And I am a balloon, a bubble, Bubbles, swelling up with all the knowledge I’m taking in, growing so much more every day. But I won’t pop.

I’m learning a lot about divination processes. Without something, anything, to feel whole, I feel like a shard of glass and I don’t want that. So I’m trying to learn about crystals, natal charts, candles, baths, breathing, meditating, all the (free) workshops, all the things, so that in time I pick and choose what feels good for me. I want to turn all of my attention on myself, because I so often lose myself in my day-to-day practices, and I don’t acknowledge my self until I feel all spent up.

I encourage you to take care of yourself in whatever ways feel good, and let yourself grow and swell. Thanks for doing this with me.

Image from createherstock.com.

[Image description: Someone holds a mug of tea in their hands]

Before jumping into this week’s blog post, I’d like to start off by saying that from here on out (although arguably, beginning last week), I’ll be attempting to write a blog post every week for the rest of the year. That’s 15 posts (I think), including this week and last’s, for you to look forward to and read as you make yourself look busy at work. As I started this blog to hold myself accountable to write and share more, I’m hoping this little personal challenge will add to that. Some of the posts, like this one, will be more self-reflective while others may take on a more creative feel.

It’s evident from all of my previous blog posts up until now that a lot is happening for me right now. A lot is changing, a lot is new, a lot is ending. And through the last few weeks, I’ve heard the voice in my head change dramatically, in ways I didn’t think it was capable of. I’ve gotten more familiar with the idea of soothing myself – of being the one who tells me, “It’s okay. You’re okay.” And while I’m trying to extend myself grace in situations, I find myself extending beyond that now. Rather than, “It’s okay,” I’m ready to ask myself, “What do I do to get to the next step?” And not in my previous, overachiever way – how do I get over this? But in a way that acknowledges I need time to be angry, time to be hurt, time to be distracted, and time to plan next steps. One of my biggest goals in the next year was to become more in-tune with my intuition, and I already feel that happening.

So I figured that I’d call this transformation self-empathy. I am one of the most empathetic people I know. If someone I care about is hurt, I hurt. It takes a lot for me to see someone cry and not start crying. I’m a Pisces. I have a superhuman ability to step outside of myself and feel what others do. A friend told me once that if I were a superhero, I’d be Mystique, shape shifting into other people. And for a long time, I wasn’t able to extend that deep ability to feel for myself. Instead, I’d power through things. While I thought I was revolutionary for conceptualizing self-empathy, a quick Google search of proves that I am not the first person to use the phrase. This guide is a really helpful one that gets at half of what this blog post was going to be. So instead, I’ll keep talking about myself. It’s what I do best.

I’m thinking of self-empathy as what happens after grace. Self-empathy is what leads to healing. I’ve tried to ground myself more than ever: leaving my phone in a drawer or on Do Not Disturb (it’s always on silent anyways), allowing myself to break out of my routine some, writing a lot, realizing that no one hears my thoughts but myself and I don’t need to share them with anyone (ironic, given that I’m writing this in a blog post…), advocating for myself and remembering that’s not new to me. I want to be able to hear the voice in my head and sense the feeling in my gut more clearly. And in that grounding, I feel…better – all around more sure of myself, confident that I can get through most things. I feel for myself. And that isn’t necessarily a good feeling. It’s warm but not fuzzy. It feels like being swollen. I feel more clear and aware of myself. In some ways, that means being temporarily sadder, as I acknowledge the feelings I have when they arise rather than tabling them for when it’s convenient to process. It feels a bit like being caught in a wave.

Because I’ve been trying to acknowledge the past and myself more, my intuition is more queued up for the future. Since that intuition is deep but I didn’t trust it, I’d wait until my instincts were proven right to take action. But I know to trust myself more, and that means being proactive. I’m getting better at feeling out what the right things for me are. My last two blog posts are part of this long, winding journey of self-compassion. Because I’ve cracked my emotional crème brulee (I really love that metaphor), I can see my emotional self a lot clearer. I’m better at feeling a pang in my chest or my stomach turn, and I can say, “It’s this that’s causing it.” If something feels bad, it is. I have to remind myself that this is a good thing! It doesn’t mean I’ll teeter into permanent sadness, as I’ve been very scared of in the past. It means that I can be empathetic and feel for myself as needed, and then when I’m ready, keep it moving.

I gotta say – with all of the life that’s happening, all of the waves I’ve been caught in, I’m really proud of myself. I feel myself growing. And sometimes that teetering sadness comes from a longing for things being how they used to be. Stifled, constantly bitter, frustrated and disappointed. That’s what’s familiar but not necessarily easier. And I have to say, in practicing self-empathy, a lot of my perfectionist tendencies have already been stripped away. I felt myself starting to outgrow them some, but once I committed to stopping, it’s been an easy enough transition. Although I feel a lot less levelheaded at times, I feel more…leveled in myself. I’m excited to be my own confidante.

Image from nappy.co 

[Image: A white table with glasses, an iPhone, cookies, a mug, a notepad and a pen]

I’ll preface by saying I am absolutely not the person to follow advice from when it comes to stress. This is more an exercise in self-reflection than anything else, because as you’ll see, one of my ways to cope with stress is extreme avoidance of the fact that I am stressed. As is already apparent, this is not a self-help blog. It’s like a…watch me try to help myself blog. So if anything resonates with you, that’s dope. But don’t think I’m acting like an expert. Although, I am an expert on being sensitive.

How I Deal with Stress

1. The first place to start is by emphasizing what I just said – when I’m stressed, I don’t think about being stressed. In fact, I try to think very hard about all the things that are not what’s stressing me out. This results in some pretty funky mental health. I think of my stress, anxiety, depression, etc. as a giant hole that I sometimes tiptoe to the edge of. And I’m scared that if I really engage with what’s causing me stress, I’ll fall over. And keep falling.
2. Along with point one, this means that I spend a lot of time around other people when I’m stressed. Like more than I can comfortably, or even reasonably, sustain. I’m deeply introverted. I need lots of time by myself to feel my best. But if I’m stressed, I’m already not feeling my best so why bother? Of course I’ll come over to hang out at 11 PM the day before a draft of my senior thesis is due at 11 AM. Duh, I wanna go to Waffle House even though I just bought groceries I planned to cook right away. Because being around other people is so taxing, it’s a welcome distraction from stress.
3. I vent. I say every detail to a thing to several people, to make sure that the situation actually is ridiculous and it’s not just me being sensitive. I wait until I’ve reasoned through things to vent though, so it mostly just reads as anger, not hurt.
4. I stress eat. Or I stress don’t eat. This is a touchy subject for me, but what I will say is that I loveeeeeee Andy Capp’s hot fries when I’m stressed. After orientation for my job ended, I bought 5 bags of hot fries because I needed to. I crave those and sugar when I’m stressed.
5. Similar to avoiding my thoughts, I avoid my body’s needs. I take the shortest, most efficient showers possible. I stay up late so I don’t have the dreaded fuck up slideshow in my head before I fall asleep. Instead, I’d rather knock out at 1 AM from exhaustion. I don’t work out because that requires initiative I don’t feel like I have.

How I’m Coping with Stress

1. I have to acknowledge what’s wrong. I’m trying to accept that sometimes, the hard thing is the right thing to do. What cracks the stress crème brulee is a hard hit, meaning that it takes me advocating for myself to make headway on a stressful situation. It’s tiring and vulnerable and hard to actually resolve issues but, hey. That’s what works.
2. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to be sad and alone. It helps me to know that I actually still exist completely in tact when I’m by myself. I won’t evaporate if I decide to be by myself when I’m upset. Again, what cracks the stress crème brulee is engaging what’s wrong, and it helps me to have lots of quiet, drawn out reflection that doesn’t happen when I’m around others.
3. I gotta ask for more hugs. Or say, “I’m not doing well” and let someone take care of me. And I gotta know that that’s okay! It’s okay to voice when I’m not doing well, in the moment as it’s happening. And I have to trust others to be able to handle those feelings.
4. Food is fuel and medicine, first. It does feel really good sometimes, and sometimes that means I feel like I don’t need or deserve it. But my body does. I’m trying to listen to my body more and eat when I actually feel hungry, not when my stressed out brain is like, “please, notice me.” Also lots more water.
5. Even if my emotions don’t feel good, my body can! I hold stress deep in my body – shoulders, my stomach, my muscles. Working out does release some of that tension. I tend to stress dream (i.e. dream about whatever is bothering me), so I avoid sleep for that reason, but I’m hoping if I ease myself into sleep more gently, like with some candles and a nice face mask or something, the last thing on my mind before bed won’t be whatever issue I’m having.

I could say a lot more about stress and how I work on it depending on what’s wrong (friends, family, work, partners, existential dread), but this is pretty across the board. It helps me to think of strategies in terms of what I’ve done in the past, why I did it, and how I can tweak that. Creating a drastic ten-point plan of how to tackle stress leaves no room for the soothing that’s necessary, and thinking of self-care as only bubble baths and lotion doesn’t leave room for changing situations. I’m trying to do both. Giving myself grace means that I have to recognize that stress is a natural part of any journey, but it doesn’t have to be all bad.

Image from createherstock.com. 

[Image description: Allison’s arm with a tattoo of the word ‘grace.’ They are sitting on their bed with plants and decorations in the background.]

A lot of life has happened to me in 2017. My dad got diagnosed with cancer and subsequently started and finished treatment, I broke up with my partner of two years, graduated college, got my first full-time job, moved 700 miles from New York to North Carolina. And that’s just a handful of the life that’s happened in this year. I’ve gone through all of those difficult things with strength and my mom’s favorite word for me – poise. But it’s only in the last few weeks, really starting this new chapter of my life, that I’ve gotten familiar with the word grace.

I don’t give myself grace. With anything. If I do things, I do them well and if I can’t, I don’t do them. I envision  how I want things to end up, and don’t give myself room to consider alternative ways of meeting that goal. And here’s the amazing thing about moving somewhere new, completely by yourself. That shit does not work. How can I create a vision for myself, in a context I have zero familiarity with? I spent my first three weeks in North Carolina in a frenzy trying to make friends and get ready for work, not even considering the massive move I just made. And several of my fellowship mentors have had to step in and say, “slow down.” It’s from them that the word grace has entered my vocabulary. It’s a concept I truly and honestly did not understand until the last few days.

I need to give myself grace in every facet of my life, because up until this point, I’ve been on overdrive with everything. Soon, I’ll hopefully begin addressing where that mindset comes from (Tumblr memes suggest its from being a high achieving kid that grows up into a perfectionist, anxious adult). But what I do know right now is that I feel completely and totally burnt out, most of the time. Trying to perform at maximum capacity for everything is not possible, according to said mentors, but I’ve really been trying at it for the last twenty or so years, and thus haven’t really seen a reason to stop. My shit seems together.

Since moving here, a lot has changed (as one would expect and hope). I’ve had to say to several people what my expectations are for them and myself in relation to them. I don’t know that I’ve had to be accountable in that sense before, or really had my needs prioritized in such a way. I realized that I had been so caught up in what I thought I should be doing for those people that…I don’t even know what my expectations are of them. Or what my personal needs are. My needs haven’t ever been a consideration of mine. Naming my needs and expectations feels like an ultimate act of vulnerability, and as I’ve written about over on Medium, vulnerability and I are not friends.

Now, here’s where the tizzy about grace has ensued. For someone so concerned with results and logic, my intuition is deep. I can feel situations. I’ve spent so long mediating that intuition and infusing my actions with logic, to a point where what I end up doing is only a fragment of what I initially intended. I need to give myself the grace to trust that intuition, and let that guide me. As I keep saying to my partner and myself, I need to trust the process. As it relates to more emotional, relationship-y things, I need to give myself grace in naming what I want from other people and accepting if they can’t offer it. I need to give myself the grace of being vulnerable, with the possibility of rejection but also the very real possibility of something beautiful emerging. In my work, I need to give myself the grace of being a person that does well and also makes mistakes. It’s okay to come into something knowing I need to learn, rather than coming in assuming I know what I already need to (it’s amazing how insecurity and arrogance often overlap). I need to give myself the grace of asking for help.

Right now, I’m in the place of being terrified to acknowledge what those wants and needs are, and giving myself the grace to know, once I put something out into the world, its reception is no longer in my control. If I sound like a jackass at work, or I ask my partner for something they can’t provide, that’s okay. I can work on it after. I feel like perfection doesn’t lend itself to apologies, and grace does. I can’t keep running myself ragged wanting to be everything for everyone and nothing for myself. Moving here by myself has made me realize how little I intentionally spend time with myself, because I don’t want that intuition to reveal itself to me. I don’t want to question myself, although I need to regularly. It’s possible to question myself and not doubt myself.

Accepting all of this has made me feel a massive wave of relief. Throughout the last few days I’ve been able to say to myself, “This is what I want from this person,” “This is what I want from this situation at work,” more and more. Again, to refer to my Medium article (really, just read it – it’s quite good), I often try to plan out what I’m going to say to people and when. And recently, I’ve just said this is how I feel, this is what I think is wrong. And even in those moments of being wrong, myself, I don’t feel regret. It’s freeing to say what I mean, even if it didn’t come out the right way.

With all of this, I need to infuse grace more into my everyday thought processes. I can’t be a perfectionist for 22 years and then suddenly, be free and stand in my truth when I don’t even know what that looks like. I need to give myself grace and trust the process –  trust that deep, internal knowledge and self that says it’s all okay. To quote my notes from my mentors, the gift of me brings beauty into the world, but I can’t give anything to others I can’t yet give to myself.