no longer striving for excellence
sweaty rage, overheating, and sharing something new
I’ve almost finished my coffee and once again, I find myself pushing back against the thoughts that tell me that this is impossible. The thoughts that say, ‘sure, you’ve done this before, but can you really do this again? And again? And again? Is this really what you want? Are you sure you’re up for this, especially now that things are so different?’
I’m going to keep sitting here as nervous sweat drips down the inside of my arm and my angry thoughts rage on and on. The window is open and it’s snowing outside and I’m still sitting here, and now I can feel the anger settle somewhere deep inside my chest. Somewhere that would take a lot of excavating to extract, and I don’t want to do that to myself. Not again. And so, I open the window wider and the snow is now coming down sideways and I’m taking off my sweater so I can sit at my desk in my sports bra while I pretend to not be trying so hard and sweating so much and feeling so frustrated with everything at 7:00am.
I know it’s me that’s continuing to add more fuel to the fire. It’s me that’s continuing to say, ‘here you go, you incredibly insistent looping thought, take up real estate here, here, and here, and maybe over there too, since it’s much more important that you take up that part of my brain than, say, my creative self or my trusting self or my confident self.’
As I look at the clock, I grow more and more and more anxious, knowing that this time is usually reserved for movement. I even add it to my calendar and label it ‘movement,’ that way I can be kinder to myself and choose if it’s a weights kind of day or a stretching kind of day. But my body doesn’t know that I’ve scheduled it for later and so it keeps nudging me to hurry up. To stop being so anxious. To make more room for ease, but to just make sure that that happens before noon because don’t forget about those errands that you have to run and none of this would be so stressful if you just could write when it is most convenient to write, and to also make it the best thing you’ve ever written because time is running out and you only have a month left of savings to exist in this state where you can worry about how you want to feel when you write, instead of just writing when you have the time. Just relax though, because all this stress isn’t good for you, and you’re never going to get paid for your writing if you’re like this all the time.
At the end of last year, I left a job that I loved. But it was time to go and so I did, and like many of us, I had no idea where I was headed next. I just knew that I wanted to head somewhere of my own making, and that I wanted to keep trusting myself—that I wanted to write and create and make a living off of doing those things. I also knew that I could want and want and try and try, and that nothing was guaranteed.
Unlike other pursuits, this one has been a lot easier to hold. And maybe because I knew that nothing was guaranteed, I began to familiarize myself with the idea of pivoting: finding work that could allow me to keep slowly slowly moving in the direction I want to go, while still paying my portion of the mortgage, medical, other living expenses, and maybe, eventually, putting some back into my savings.
With the promise of something new and unfolding, I am no longer striving for excellence. But on a micro level? My excellence bar is still much higher than I’d like it to be. Most of the time, I oscillate between (trying to) kindly ask the intrusive thoughts to pack up and leave, feeling certain of who I am and the efforts I’m putting in, and being completely overwhelmed by the self-management that keeps me stable and functioning. I don’t know where I fall today, only that the window is now opened as far as it can go and there’s a snowy world outside and my sweater is on the floor and it doesn’t matter because I’m determined to keep myself in this seat until I reach a point where I can go ok, I can be done now.
But it’s all so new, this feeling of being more sure of the way I hold my moods and emotions and pursuits close but not too close. And most days, I am grateful that it is something that I have to keep working for, enjoying the challenge of learning and relearning and building and tearing down and building back up again. Of being patient and determined and focused and gentle, all at the same time. Or screaming and screaming into a pillow and wanting to punch my computer and being ok with all of that too.
I really don’t want to let people down and I don’t want to say the wrong thing and I want to be the best friend ever and show all the love and to give all my time and to never disappoint. But maybe I’m just worried that I’ll abandon myself. That I’ll forget who I am for long enough that I’ll become a version of myself that I don’t recognize anymore, and that in the process of me striving and striving for an impossible level of excellence, I’ll have skipped over my favorite parts.
But maybe now I’m listening to those thoughts a little less. Maybe they don’t feel as big and maybe I’m not as afraid of telling them to leave; it feels good, to practice closing that door, and to envision myself closing other doors, too. There’s no wrong way to do this, I tell myself.
And I know that I often talk about the my endings to things (ex: relationships, jobs, pursuits, etc.), as being something negative. Something to feel shame around. Consistency! I’ll say, that’s the key. If only I had followed through, then I wouldn’t be starting over at 32.
‘But the thing is, you aren’t starting over,’ my thoughts counter, ‘and those pursuits and jobs and friendships? They needed to be let go of, and now you get to try something new. Something you love. So yeah, whatever, start here (or wherever you want), just as long as you try and make mistakes and don’t hold on too tightly. Because letting go isn’t always such a bad thing.’
The window is still wide open and I have a rage within me that is taking up too much space, so much space that I’ll have to find a way to open the window wider so I can work through the muckiest parts of it. And once I do that, I’ll take a step back and I’ll breathe out and I’ll say look, I did the impossible! I did the thing I told myself I couldn’t do.
With love,
Chloe
EPILOGUE
When I started writing this it was raining and now there is an inch of snow covering every branch on every tree. When I started writing this I felt consumed by thoughts— intrusive thoughts that had been piling up over the past few weeks. I tried and tried and I didn’t know how to get rid of them. I went for long walks and I swung my arms around and I jumped up and down and I journaled and meditated and journaled and went to therapy three times, and just when I thought they had finally left, there were more, occupying the parts of my mind that I had worked so hard to reserve for my own comings and goings.
When I started writing this, I didn’t think I would write anything at all, but I think that’s how it usually goes? Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t and sometimes it lands somewhere in between, but if it’s something you want to do, you just have to keep showing up in all of your wonderful, sweaty rage, and with no promise of anything at all.
SOMETHING NEW
Part of why it’s been so hard to write recently is because I’ve been entirely consumed by creating a new Notion template, and putting the finishing touches on my other two offerings. I’m really excited about it all, and would love to hear what you think, too.
Introducing The Coven! A Notion hub for creative minds. Simple, well-thought-out systems of support, film photos to enhance and inspire, gentle colors to promote ease, and zero overwhelm. More details can be found here.
Website ~ chloealmeda.com
All Notion Offerings ~ chloealmeda.com/offerings
Workshops ~ chloealmeda.com/workshops
About ~ chloealmeda.substack.com/about
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