Hi there.

Journaling in a journal is good, but I feel the need to put things out there.

I'm a bit tired with my life as it is. I know I'm on the road to a fulfilled life but I'm definitely not there yet.

So often, my house is dirty, I've got nothing to eat, I don't move around, and I procrastinate at work.

I know that soon I'll be living a life I love.

And here's what it's gonna look like:

Freelancing, yoga, art, working, self-confidence, self-love.

I'm going to be free of anxiety (mostly) and productive rather than scared to act.

I don't blame myself at all. I know that not reaching the goals I have is because I'm scared, not because I'm bad. But I'm also interested in pushing back that anxiety and pushing towards abundance.

I see myself, well, ideally: waking up right away, IDEALLY exercising, but who knows if that's gonna happen, but at least doing morning yoga, eating some tasty food, getting to work on time, and having a killer workflow (which for now is teaching but eventually will be writing). I see myself as a vegetarian and a teetotaler, eating lots of veggies, drinking lots of water, taking vitamins and supplements, keeping my a1c at a 6-7 range, laughing a ton. I see myself as a runner and a weight trainer. I see myself running away my anxiety. I see myself on time for things and well-organized. I see myself going to sleep early and waking up 8-9 hours later. I see myself not procrastinating. I see myself learning guitar and French. I see myself as fashionable. I see myself as a risk-taker.

I think the impatience with the way things are right now stems from the fact that I am making so many leaps and bounds. I feel this interior momentum pushing myself towards my dreams. I have an incredible job (that I'm incredibly good at), I've stepped away from destructive and addictive relationships. I started keeping a to-do list and, a few months later, a Day-Timer.

I allow myself treats. I have bought clothes for myself, shit I've wanted for years. I paint my nails often, just as a treat. I have WORKED OUT once a week for 1.5 YEARS. I am strong as hell. I buy makeup and (did I mention clothes), go out, drink, hang with friends. I've even started writing again! I DON'T beat myself up about not getting things done. I've (to a large extent) managed, through observation and substitution to STOP the cyclical nature of self-defeating thoughts. (Which, my friends, is SO TOTALLY WORTH the work).

I fucking love myself and where I am right now. And I know that I am so close to living a life that I am proud of and happy with. A life that hasn't been available to me since I broke up with Joshua, in 2005. That's 8 years. I'm myself again: happy, hopeful, confident.

So I think that's why I'm antsy. In the lean years I knew I couldn't  be the person I wanted to, no matter how badly I wanted it. I had to trade in dreaming big for taking tiny, TINY, TINY steps. (At least, they felt that way to me.) I had to focus on things like waking up in the morning, getting out of bed. Reminding myself over and over and over again that there wasn't a RIGHT shirt to wear, or a morally SOUND coffeeshop to go to. (And it's not like I never deal with that at this point. Hormones, lack of sleep, excess of stimulants, or just a stressful week will bring all those things out of me in a jiffy!)

But I can see real, empirical progress. I cannot emphasize this enough, most of the incredibly fast progress I've made in the past six months has come from ACCEPTING MYSELF. Just like all those counselors told me. I have been (as much as I can) OBSERVING my behavior, and ACCEPTING it. I've OBSERVED my thoughts, and tried to change them if they slanted toward extremism, catastrophizing, or self-hatred. I have accepted that I've had a shitty lot in life, with a lot of stress in childhood and the heavy weight of a chronic illness. (Jaime's interviews w. me during her social work degree especially helped with that realization.)

I could write for a million hours (that alone is a miracle) about the proscribed circle of correctness I lived in for years. I could write about how I broke out of that.

These are the things I have done that have helped me grow: I have been in several shitty relationships, and some not so shitty ones. I have watched friends fight back against their own addictions, giving me the first push towards examining mine. I have worked jobs I've liked, jobs I've loved, and jobs I've hated. I have benefitted from the unconditional love of friends and family who have been with my on my whole life's journey. I've prayed a lot. I've listened to a LOT of fucking pop music. I've slept a TON, and done things VERY slowly. Sometimes ONE thing a DAY. I've found a great place to live and met new friends. I've had various psychosomatic illnesses that alerted me to the fact that I wasn't happy. I've journaled. I've bounced back and forth between taking risks and taking NO risks. I've gone out on dates. I've dated older men (bonus: free "how-to-be-an-adult" lessons). I've been on various pharmaceuticals. (Still am. Love those little guys.) I've been in counseling. I've TRIED to be patient with myself even when it was REALLY difficult.

The point is, we are GETTING there. There being: a place where I'm pretty damn happy with my life.

I'm not really sure where to go from here, writing-wise. I mean the whole point of this post was to explain how I WASN'T there yet, and how I WASN'T happy with my life yet. But instead, I seem to have written just a lot of really great stuff about how everything's a journey, and I'm making great progress, and great job Meg, and etc.

I started writing today because I was frustrated with a lot of my habits. I don't brush my teeth or wash a lot. I don't clean my apartment or take out my trash, or do the dishes. I don't run, and I'm late a lot, and kind of flaky, and sleep WAY too much, and don't write regularly, and haven't become a famous writer yet.

I started writing to work through if I should hire a life-coach (still an option!) or write out all my goals (still will!) and the steps to get through them. Or start seeing a counselor again. But hell, I've really done a lot of great things over these past few years. Good job, Meg. Great job!

I guess what I'm seeking is not so much the attainment of certain goals (although that's definitely an interest) but the cultivation of a self that is a little more motivated. I have serious, serious problems with procrastination and self-sabatoge that is rooted in anxiety and stress. And there's a lot to be anxious about: heart pain, nerve damage in the legs, enlarged blood vessels in eyes, receding gums, itchy lymph nodes. Even one of those things would stress a person out! It would send them to bed and begging for mercy.

Add the first years of a career, some sucky relationships, some PTSD, and the INSANE STRESS of managing a chronic illness DAILY and it's no wonder I'm a little slower on the self-improvement train than others. (See? There I go again with the encouragement. It's unintentional, I assure you.)

So, I may still see a counselor. Who knows? But the tools that have helped me the most over the past few years and especially the past few months are the following:

1. Buying shit. Please, please, do not underestimate the power of buying shit. (It is called retail THERAPY for a reason, people.) This has been such a helpful thing to me. First of all, it was a huge and necessary swing from a poverty-based mindset to one of abundance. (In fact, I OVER-purchase at this point in my life because I have so much pent-up purchasing desire from years of self-denial.) My self-talk to implement this tool went a little like this: "Meg, you can buy shit. I know you feel like this is an incredibly American idea, and that the world is drowning in waste and human slavery, and that buying this nail polish is an expression of all of that, but it's not. It's an expression of wanting teal nails. Which is a perfectly human desire, as you have observed in the 14-year-olds that you teach." Buying shit, as a habit, took me a while to work on. There was a time in the mid '00s that I couldn't buy a SHIRT without having a freaking anxiety attack about if it was the RIGHT and LIFE-FULFILLING shirt that I was DESTINED by GOD to buy. It took YEARS to break out of hyperventilating every time I spent money. But I can do it now with little anxiety, MOSTLY. (Although if I spend too much time thinking about it or it's a big-ticket item, I get a little scared off.) (Also, I realize that buying shit is a habit that's helpful if you have some spare cash around, but I am a firm believer in buying shit even if you don't have a ton of disposable income. Tiny treats for yourself ("Good job, you're living! You're not letting life get you down!") can be INCREDIBLY powerful.) I started out with things like nail polish, chocolate, magazines, and 100% beeswax candles. Also, it's important to remember, when using this technique that there are no bad purchases. That's been a recent realization for me. I personally believe (and I understand if you disagree) that returning things is a waste of my limited time on this earth. If I buy something that I end up hating, I DON'T return it. I GIVE it to a friend or Goodwill. Returning things is SOOOO stressful to me that I'm happy to eat whatever I spent on it so long as I don't have to go through the soul-sucking process of returning it. When I don't want something, I see the price I paid for it as paying Walgreens not to force me to return it if I don't like it. This is probably not true for you. Lots of people find it LESS stressful to return things. NOT ME. I will not return anything. So anything I buy -- that money is gone. Again, this is far more pleasing to me than the idea of returning it. Keep an eye on your self-talk for fun facts like this. Even if everyone else in the entire world finds returning items reasonable, if it is deeply stressful to you, you should not do it. Everything has a price, intangible or otherwise. And for me, the mental and psychological stress of returning things is NEVER worth it. 

I've made some great strides with this habit. I'm happy to report that I have moved from buying chocolates to buying 90 dollar watches, 200 dollar boots, and a 9,000 dollar car! It has also led to me buying a humidifier that I literally have never taken out of the box, and some other shitty purchases that I can't even remember now because I am so happy that I can, after many years, buy things without feeling anxious.

Buying shit has improved my life exponentially. We are (especially some of us) visual, tactile, sensual human beings. We RESPOND EMOTIONALLY (whether we want to or not) to the aesthetics around us. If we live in a shitty white apartment with no lamps, we will feel sad! If our pants don't fit and have holes in them, we will feel sad! If we do not have cool earrings, we will feel sad! On the other hand, if we are really dreading work, but know that we get to do so in some freaking awesome (and cheap!) clothes we got at the local Target or thrift store, we will fucking jump out of bed, my friends. We are simple beings. We like novelty. Buy some shit. Feel better.

Keep in mind, when you buy shit, that this is the shit that surrounds you every day. You will use these things EVERY DAY. Start out buying cheap, but if you can afford to splurge a little, please do. I will never trade in my Kakao for Hershey's, and paraffin candles are anathema to me. I will never give up my Frye boots, because they will last (or be replaced) FOR LYFE. When jeans do not fit, they distract you and make you want to commit homicide. Do not buy them! I do not care if they are cheap! They will lead you to a life of crime!

Every day I step into my Mini, I feel a little lift. When I light my candles and paint my nails and eat my chocolates and read my magazines (which I buy weekly, people) I feel happy. Like somebody values me. Someone cares about me. And someone does. ME.

The final lesson in Buying Shit is: Buy Multiple Versions of Shit. (Followed closely by: Don't Freak Out If You Buy Shit You Hate) This final plane of existence took me many months to come to, but it is well worth it. Truth bomb: you do not know everything in the world. You especially don't know everything about objects that you have no prior experience with. THEREFORE, even if you do all the research about all the things, you WILL make mistakes. That running jacket WILL make you sweat in ways you never even knew were possible. Keeping in mind The Fact That You Don't Know Everything (it's amazing how many people don't realize this truth) you may sometimes have to buy Two Versions Of the Same Thing. This is best illustrated by a personal tale.

Once upon a time, I was at Target. I was wandering The Aisle with Post-Its, because really, is there anything better than The Aisle With Post-Its? (Only The Aisle With Nail Polish comes close.) I found a notebook that I couldn't resist, and purchased it.

A few days later, when I cracked it open and pulled out a fountain pen, (Oooh, do I detect another life-improving purchase?) I realized that it was really. fucking. good. paper. Which, if you own a fountain pen, you know is really. fucking. hard. to find. I was ecstatic! What a win!

I wrote in that notebook every freaking day, because it was a PURE JOY. (The pure joy is hard to communicate if you're not a paper/pen freak, but just trust me on this one.) Sometimes, I wrote down things I had to do on the paper. And rather than being a burden, it was a delight! I started writing things down just for FUN! I slowed down my writing and improved my penmanship. And instead of looking at that to-do list and feeling the oppressive weight of all that I had done wrong in my life pushing down on my head, I thought things like, "Wow! That paper IS really fucking good."

Soon, I transitioned from a long to-do list to a makeshift planner. I would write "Monday" on one half of that fucking awesome paper and "Tuesday" on the other half, and then I would write down the things I had to do on each day. Prior to this, I hadn't kept a planner since high school, when I actually had a schedule and things to do. (College was kind of a wash for me.) I realized that the quality of the writing instrument and the fucking awesome paper was creating a change in my habits that no amount of self-castigation or encouragement had done. The tactile sensation of paper and pen was making planning fun. So I wanted to do it. I didn't become a better person and THEN begin planning. I appealed to my sensual, easily-distracted reptilian brain (oooh! shiny!) and my frontal lobe got a free ride!

But this is a story about buying Two Versions Of the Same Thing, right? Right.

After I had tricked my reptilian brain (oooh! shiny!) into being my willing partner-in-crime (the ink is purrrrple!) I figured I could transition it into an actual physical planner. So I headed over to Office Depot, (OMG, it's like a Giant Aisle With Post-Its) opened and closed and studied their planner options and settled on a DayTimer.

I'm not new to the issue of Paper Quality In America (Please don't get me started. You'll regret it.) so I bought some multicolored Pilot Pens (Very Fine) in the hope that there'd be minimal bleed-through and that reptile brain would be distracted enough by ink color that it wouldn't notice the sharp downgrade in paper weight. I spent about 50 bucks on the whole enterprise. (Plus some Post-Its. Couldn't resist!) Of course, you know how this story goes. Of course reptile brain noticed, and freaked out. It was very unhappy with the new paper, the new pen, and the teeeeeny tiny lines it had to write its to-dos on. NOT HAPPY. Reptile brain let me know. IT WAS NOT HAPPY.

What's a girl to do? Reptile Brain wasn't interested in planning anymore, Frontal Lobe was despondent and consequently doing a lot of Overthinking, so Amygdala was super-pissed as well. Rough. Frontal Lobe pulled it together long enough to do a little research online, where it found a (bound) day planner with Clairefontaine paper (64gsm) in a page-a-day format. (Reptile Brain prefers two pages a day, but WHATEVER LIZARD, YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT.) The total came to 30 dollars, plus shipping and handling.

Now, you might remember from earlier that I never return things, which means no matter which planner I end up using, it still cost me 80 bucks. (Also, planners that have been written in are pretty tough to return). But here's how I think about that 80 dollars: 1) Part of that money is a finder's free. Frontal Lobe did some great research and brave purchasing, so she gets "paid" for that work. 2) It is absolutely worth it to me to keep purchasing planners until I find one that works for me. That 80 dollars is an investment in creating a system that keeps Reptile Brain humming, Frontal Lobe planning, and Amygdala zen-ning. Forcing myself to work with a tool that, essentially, doesn't work, isn't worth the pain and suffering that I experience when my psyche is unhappy. Planning is something I do everyday, so I need something that works. And if when that new planner comes in, it's STILL not workable, I will purchase a THIRD planner, and a FOURTH planner, until I find what I'm looking for.

2. Be irrationally nice to yourself. Check in with yourself. Allow yourself to make excuses. Encourage yourself. Let yourself cry. Let yourself fuck things up