I feel at least half as terrible as I did when I first started writing this letter. but the most important thing I take from this is that I thought about going here in the first place. to loving life again.
in every sad moment, no matter how much complaining I do in front of my mother, no matter how many times I cry in front of my friends, I constantly have this need to look towards the light. even if, in the darkest pits of my mind, I don’t believe I will get there, or I don’t deserve to be near that bright place.
I believe in myself but I never forget my limits. I have a restricted faith when it comes to me, always overshadowed by the seemingly unlimited belief that I have for other people. lack of self-worth, gaslighting myself, whatever you’ll call it–I’m working on it. if other people can love me as much as they do, who am I to doubt whether I am worthy of that? as though other people didn’t have their own mind, views, beliefs, judgment?
the one thing that really stopped me from loving life as it is was Control, and my lack of it, and how helpless I felt without it. but there isn’t much you really have control over.
I wrote down in my journal,
things that are in my control:
being present in the moment
my words and actions
my mindset
how I speak to myself
what I give my energy to
how I spend my free time
how I move on from failure
how I care for myself on rough days
the boundaries I set
and things that aren’t:
the actions of others
the opinions of others (of me)
the future
the outcome of my efforts
past mistakes
what happens around me
other people’s boundaries
I don’t have much energy to spare if I don’t want to go crazy. I have been watching films. been going through books slowly, keeping one copy in my bag, and another one on my nightstand. journaling a lot, about everything; getting to know my feelings, turning them into thoughts, learning about myself and my inner workings. taking care of my plants. walking to work with my phone in the bag. writing sometimes in the evenings. sometimes in the mornings. chatting with my colleagues over my coffee with pretty latte art. checking out the flea markets, buying fluffy bread. going to the farmer’s market, eating flatbread. taking walks by the river, sitting on benches, talking.
and perhaps this is what I want my life to be like. slow and steady, sometimes still.
I always thought to be alive and my existence was a difficult thing to go through, but it really doesn’t have to be all that big; these mundane moments are truly what I live for.
and it can stay this way. I feel at ease with myself when I am grounded. the moments that bring me peace will come back to me again and again, even untethered.