#internalthoughts

It's funny to me that you see people post pictures in different cities, states, countries and the caption usually says "life is such a blessing"

My blessing is my own home. Now I'm not saying people don't think that normally it's just kind of funny how you don't see someone take a picture of there empty apartment and say life is a blessing.

Because in my opinion if you can afford a place to live by yourself that's a blessing, or buying a vehicle, or waking up alive.

If your reading this your already blessed by owning a smart phone.

The need to be loved is not something we ask

We’re born into this world and held

So why is it hard to want it when it’s all we have ever know to begin with.

The stories we tell ourselves are internal meetings

But like a job that feels unsatisfactory, we debate the best cause of action but stay though we are unhappy for comfortability.

Truth, a by product of a safe space but no one safely shares their heart because there is always risk.

Now that I am stuck in a rift, between my heart on my sleeve and the pain in my chest, I cleave away at the wall that I find hard to climb.

Today I came to the realization that the last few weeks have been occupied by one singular thought: How do I move from “thinking” to “doing?” 

Ironically, the fact I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking about how to stop thinking and not actually doing what I wanted to be doing says a lot about the progress that I haven’t made. 

Yesterday I had a conversation with a friend and my boss, and one thing that came out of that conversation was the importance of scheduling you time. My boss said to me at one point: “You never miss a podcast release, you never miss a newsletter release, you never miss a deadline and if you do you need to miss one for whatever reason, you set a new one that you can meet. But it seems to me that if you don’t schedule a workout you won’t get to it because you’ll treat it as a nice to have like some of the items on your to do list that you haven’t gotten to yet because they didn’t have a deadline.”

This coming immediately after a conversation with my friend who told me that at the end of the day I need to decide what my priorities are, and that they should always first and foremost be myself, and how I need to schedule my time to fit that priority.

Weirdly, while this is by no means groundbreaking, I really appreciated the bluntness of my first friend, and the analogy of my boss. After both conversations a light bulb went off over my head. Even now, it’s 10:55 PM as I am writing this, but what am I going to do when I finish typing? 

That’s right, I’m going to go do a Pilates workout, because I need to take care of myself, but I am tired, so I don’t want to lift weights. But a calm workout that helps me stretch AND build muscle? 

Sounds like a win to me.

Ah, life, how thou art a cruel bitch.

Just now I opened my Tumblr for the first time in about two months, and the first thing I saw was the last post I had written, and part of me shook my head, part of me felt disappointed, and part of me didn’t know what to feel because of the first words I saw written there.

“For the first time in a long time, I am heading into the new year feeling rejuvenated. Conversations I’ve had in the last few days have provided some clarity and a sense of purpose for the direction I want to take my life, and the adjustments I need to make are clear and direct.” - Me, January 2, 2023

Two months later, I can’t say I feel any of that even remotely. 

Yesterday I took the time to write up everything that’s been going on in my life in 2023, and seeing it all written down and displayed in front of me was so overwhelming. 2023 hasn’t been bad per se and I recognize my privilege in a lot of areas: I have food in my belly, a roof over my head, a well paying job, friends and family that love me. But everything has been too much all at once, and there has been no reprieve from the chaos of my life. No Jessa time, no down time, no anything that wasn’t some variation of work and learning and other people’s expectations, and to say I am feeling the effects would be an understatement.

Which brings me to this post. 

How do you go from dreaming to doing? It’s a question that’s been on my mind these last few weeks as I muddle my way through 18-20 hour days, overtime at work, manual labour at home, French twice a week, homework, and small attempts to keep up with the people I love most in my life.

But how do I get Jessa time in there? How do I get the body I want, and speak the languages I want, and have the free time I want, when so much of my time right now is dedicated to other people and their wants and needs?? 

In my head I am as jacked as I was when I was training for competitive Tae Kwon Do, and not closing back in on 200 pounds again. In my head I can speak English, French, AND Korean comfortably, not just a few words here and there of the latter two. In my head I am confident and I know who I am, not someone who avoids her eyes in the mirror because she doesn’t like what she sees.

So the one thing I keep asking myself is: How do I stop dreaming about a better me, and become her?

Hello 2023. It’s nice to meet you.

For the first time in a long time, I am heading into the new year feeling rejuvenated. Conversations I’ve had in the last few days have provided some clarity and a sense of purpose for the direction I want to take my life, and the adjustments I need to make are clear and direct. I owe a lot to my colleague/close friend Britt for that sense of direction, as she shared with me a tool called the Year Compass which provides an opportunity to reflect on the year behind you, and prepare for the year ahead.

Part of me is still lost (re: my last post), but I’ve been thinking long and hard about what I wrote a few days ago and what led to me having those thoughts. I don’t feel particularly encouraged by the darkness my brain went to that night, but I do think it was an accurate reflection of where my brain is at lately.

When I was working on the Year Compass, it asked me to pick three words to represent my previous year and I wrote disjointed, disappointing, and eye-opening. Writing them down gave me a weird sense of relief, like I was finally admitting to myself that the year wasn’t the best. Which again, feels extremely weird, because on paper I have a lot going for me. I got a promotion and an $18,000 raise, I got to go to Vancouver, LA, Golden, Mexico, and Toronto, I saw a number of my favourite groups in concert, I got to meet Ingerid (FINALLY!) after 10 years and spend time with her, I had really special moments with my family, but when I look inwards, I don’t see that positively reflected.

I gained 20lbs of the 40lbs back that I had lost in 2021. I spent a third of the year sick. I lost my confidence and felt like I wasn’t worth much. I am in love with a man who will never see me the same way, and yet I constantly compare other prospects to him instead of trying to move on. I am 2.5 years single, in debt, overweight, and living at home.

I’m not super unhappy by any means, and I think that was one thing I got wrong in my last post because I *AM* happy. It just so happens I have so much more room to grow.

But the reality is, the only person capable of making those changes is me. And if I want to find that happiness I am looking for, sitting on my ass daydreaming isn’t going to get me there.

I keep waiting for the perfect moment to make changes, like a Monday because it’s the start of the new week, or after a birthday three weeks from now because I know I’ll eat badly on that particular day, or when I’ve lost a few pounds and I can make those changes easier.

But I am starting to realize through my conversations over the last few days that there is no right time for change. Change starts as soon as you are ready to make it, and the only person who can start that process is you. So if that change is on a Tuesday in the middle of the month on a cold rainy day, so be it. There’s no right day for change.

So here’s to a 2023 full of happiness, health, wealth, and the ability to make changes, even when it seems like the hardest thing in the world to do.

Hello again, old friend.

Eight years ago I made this blog because I needed a place to escape. A place where I could hurl my thoughts, uninterrupted, and no one would ask me to explain what they meant. A place where I didn’t have to keep a smile on my face 100% of the time to appease other people. A place where simply existing was enough. Where I was enough.

I didn’t think I’d need to come back to this place.

But here I am.

My life feels disjointed as of late. *I* feel disjointed. Principally I am happy. I have a fantastic job, with great friends, amazing family, a good support network, access to books that I love, and hobbies that I enjoy.

There is a roof over my head, food in my belly, fur babies running around the house.

But why is it that I can’t truly say that I am happy?

For one, I am 30 pounds overweight, again. Again. 

Some days I look in the mirror, and I see a woman staring back at me who is trying her best. But other days I can’t get myself to make eye contact with that woman in the mirror, because I’m not sure what I will see when I look at her.

I am in debt, and when I sit and I calculate and I crunch the numbers, everything feels so overwhelming I can hardly breathe. Debt with a capital ‘D’ sits crushingly on my shoulders, and the only person I have to blame is myself and my bad decisions.

I live at home. Again. I moved home during the pandemic when an opportunity presented itself and I could finally escape from the misery that was my life, the misery of being alone constantly, of going to bed alone and waking up alone, even though my partner was only a few feet away at his chair. Escape the misery of having no friends who saw anything worthwhile in me, of having no family close enough to hold me, and no future where happiness seemed like an option.

So I ran, the first chance I took, and I never looked back. But here I am, 2.5 years later shy of two days, and I have once again gone back to a place I had created to escape.

Part of me wonders if the problem is how much of this I keep in my head. 

I don’t talk to people about the things that are wrong in my life because so much of my life is good. It feels like I should not complain about all that I’ve been afforded, because how can there be things wrong in my life when so much of it is filled with good?

But that doesn’t change the fact that I am scared. Scared of never being good enough. Scared of never getting out from my debt. Scared of never being able to live alone. Scared of never being loved.

Today, on December 27, 2022 I am 28 years old. I live with my parents and my younger brother. I am $65K in debt. I am alone.

I have friends who love me. A family who loves me. A job that I love, and people who love working with me. I have season tickets to the Calgary Flames. I am studying French in University. I have travelled the world, seen my favourite bands in concert. I am loved.

But none of the good changes the fact I have no idea how to love myself.