I broke down today. I cried and vented and yelled and fell the fuck apart. I hate that I can't handle everything all the time.
Even though I don't expect that of anyone else.
Maybe I'm too tired right now. Maybe I'm overstretched. Or maybe I'm just human. Imagine.
I don't give myself a lot of slack. I know this. Sometimes, I hold onto my own story of having to do-it-all-right-now-because-I-know-I-can-and-I-love-the-work.
I also know that I expect a lot of myself because I have a history of being able to do what I say I'm going to do - even if it's painful, even when it seems impossible. Even when I love it. Even when I'm unenthused. Even when it feels motivated by duty more than joy.
Today, I was freaked out about a writing project. And I didn't want to admit it. After nine years of writing professionally, I still think I should be able to manage it all. I still think I should know everything.
(I know, logically, this isn't possible. Darn it.)
I was afraid because I had promised a client I could do something, knowing full well this would be the first time I had ever done it. I did the research and figured it out, but this was after spending an hour crying with my partner.
Between sobs, I realized I don't talk much about how afraid I can get. So often, I just fight through it. I do what needs to be done.
But when I don't admit being afraid, it means others don't know the me I am in that moment. They might begin to think I never need help or a hug or an 'atta girl' from time to time. I do need all of that.
The game face I put on can be exhausting at times.
I get caught up in what I *should* be and I get lost.
Yet, today was beautiful in the way that many of my most vulnerable moments are. I open up and name the fear. I open up and name what I need. I open up and learn something about myself.
I open up and realize people will love me all the same.
Today, I opened up and dove into the possibility that admitting I am weak and scared and confused is okay. That when my reflection in the mirror is tears streaming down my face, it's okay.
I got this. And when I stop hiding, others can start holding me.
It's okay. It's okay. It's okay.
"Brigid & Another Pledge" -- Moon Books blog