you are enough.

I’m really bad at social media. I’ll never be the author who tweets all day long about politics and their favorite TV shows (I still can’t even call myself an author, but I think my therapist would tell me to own my dream, because we are currently working on my self-esteem) or be this dynamite iPhone photographer who posts those engagingly filtered pictures from all the most envious of places.


I used to post a lot to my Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram accounts. I loved the hell out of every new platform that appeared on my radar. Sign up for an account, encourage my closest friends to join along with me, and post.


I don’t know the moment when I pulled back and decided that I needed to keep my private life private. Maybe I got dumped. It seems every drastic decision I’ve ever made has come when I had my heart broken.


But I’ve been (no pun intended) virtually offline since April. I spent a month without social media, and since returning in May, have reduced signing into my accounts to a few times a week. Only recently have I thought: well, maybe I should say what’s on my mind, as Twitter or Facebook (whichever is creepier) urges me to do daily, but coming up with something interesting to post is as painful as pulling out my own teeth.


I simply do not know what’s worth sharing anymore. And maybe none or all of it is.


Dare I go into the struggle of being a personal trainer and an assistant/childcare provider full-time on top of writing a manuscript and trying to made graphics that look fan-made because the publicists I hired (they were really, really great) recommended I try that to spread the word of A Fantastic Mess of Everything? Because I nearly exploded from the burnout.


Do you really want to hear about the month-long panic attack where I felt homeless, both mentally and physically, and couldn’t find peace within myself and my surroundings? Because that totally happened this summer.


Or I could talk about the freak accident where my car engine shut off, rolling my car downhill and crashing into the concrete wall of a bridge. Oh, and the cherry on top of that story: I jumped out. Nobody was hurt, only my conscience for several days thereafter.


I also hired a therapist. Started meditating. Lost of a lot of money to my car accident. Had to buy a new car. Injured my knee and wrist. Etc. etc. woe is mother effin’ me.


I suppose what’s interesting isn’t one event or even one thought. Maybe what people want to read about is the human experience. The nights I worried I may lose my job because I didn’t have a car. The fear that I’m unworthy of love. Wondering if the temple where I like to meditate is a cult. My therapist telling me that my absent father had a subconscious impact on my self-esteem (thought I dodged that one!).


In the spring of 2016, I wrote A Fantastic Mess of Everything about a girl struggling with anxiety and the consequences of resisting change. In the spring of 2017, I was still very much that girl.


Call it a mental breakdown. I’m taking note from Brene Brown and calling it a spiritual awakening. If I started ranting my political beliefs over Twitter and was praised for being on the right side of history, that wouldn’t be me. If I hosted a book giveaway on Facebook and came up with wicked cute graphics and advertised my posts, that wouldn’t be me.


I don’t know what I am, but I know who I am and why I do what I do. At the end of the day, I just want to connect. I want us all to feel apart of something much bigger than ourselves. I want to belong, and I want to love. And I want to share that inclusion.


I make mistakes. Really big ones sometimes. But I’m trying my best to own up and grow from them. A lot of important things scare me: vulnerability, love, worthiness; but I’m ready to be wholly myself and care less about what others think.


I’m not interested in following a formula that a book laid out (I’ve read a lot of those recently) in order to become successful, because I’m already enough. I don’t need more money, more readers, or more of anything else. This moment is enough for me.


I am already enough.


I hope, despite everything going on in your life–good or bad–that you take a step back and realize that you are too.


One thought on “you are enough.

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