Does losing my fears mean losing me?

Aren’t the fairy tales the worst (…this will make sense by the end of the blog post…maybe…). “Spend time with your fears”, “use your fears as a stepping stone”, “focus on your fears instead of your goals”. Who the fuck says stuff like that?? …for fucks sake…dumb as shit…….. Oh, right, that was my last blog post…the dimwit I was back then…I thought that was actually good advice…thought I’d solve aallll my problems thinking aaaaallllllll my problems were related to being too pretty few years ago… how great I thought this moment would have been where I could write my genius blog post with having solved it all!

Well..it did not quite go that way did it? DID IT? …no, no it did not… and also, get off your high horse you dimwit you…

I actually took my own advice…spent some time, long time with my fears. Sure, one of them is facing all the criticism that would follow if people would see me. I knew it existed. I wrote about it. I was also semi-aware of my fears of being just like my dad; overly sarcastic, charming person who eventually will hurt everyone around them by breaking their promises, cheating on anyone who can be cheated on, etc. etc.. An alchololic. I thought I’d take that on; a friend of mine was starting her annual lent journey; 40 days without alcohol or sweets. I’m in! I’ll prove I’m not an alcoholic!

40 days without any alcohol or any sweets – I did not think I could make it. And why? Here’s why: 1. The only thing I hate more than being told what to do is to be told what not to do 2. 40 days without any alcohol or any sugar; don’t think I’ve had that since I was 13…and that’s just for alcohol…with sugar we would prob have to go back to, I don’t know, when can toddlers have sugar? 3. My dad was an alcoholic and while that’s my mental image of pure hatred, how close am I actually of becoming him…?

Guess what happened? Guess! I made it. It was actually easy. I made it through 40 days without any alcohol and any sugar and I think it was harder on random waitresses than it was on me…

-Waiter: Should we start with a prosecco for everyone?

-Friends:  Yes, yes, yes, yes….

– Me; no, can’t drink alcohol right now

– Waiter: no problem, we have great mocktails

– Me: Sure, but I can’t have any sugar either

-Waiter: oh…let me ask our chef… *questioning all his best service pledges

-Waiter; so here’s a drink with cucumber, lemon and basil

– Me; It’s great *putting on a fake smile and a thumbs up

– Friend who shows up to dinner right after; oh that looks like the best mojito ever!

– Me: ….it’s water… *turning my fake smile into a sigh of deep disappointment

My learnings? Well. Damn right, previous blog post you (me?), I am my biggest challenge. And what this time of proper self-reflection showed me; the fucking fears I knew I need to, and will, deal with are only part of it. I can be without alcohol, I sure need to lose weight. But. Here’s the real shit: I’m afraid of moving on from me. I’m afraid of moving on from what I need to be to survive my past. I’m afraid of letting that me go.

I guess this might not make sense to a lot of people, but maybe it will make sense to some. In a very messed up way of putting it; I knew my life was not a Disney movie, but I needed it to be one. I had to deal with a lot, I went through a lot. I thought I needed to keep to it so that I could be “saved”. I thought I needed to have it, so that I could have my happy ending. And without it? No happy ending. Without it, I’d be one of the normies. They surely don’t get a happy ending, surely not as great as mine. I mean, if you are normal and happy and healthy and not completely fucked up; can you get a knight in a shiny armour to save you, can you save yourself? Is your story worth telling? No, not according to fairy tales. You need to suffer for it.

And oh my…does that not lead you to fucked-up-ville? You need to be properly fucked up so that next you can be happy? You need to stay fucked up so that others see your worth? So that others can look at you with “she went through a lot, it’s a miracle she’s still alive”. AND. If she’s not fucked up, she’s just one of “us”, a normal person trying to make it through life. And want to hear the most random fucked up thing? I’m afraid to give blood because I think my purpose and will to fight is tied to my blood and by giving it away I would give a part of me away! It doesn’t make sense!

What’s my fucked up biggest fear? Losing part of my fuckedupedness. I actually fear that getting better would mean losing part of me. And I do get that, I had to fight to get here, and I fought, and I will fight. But come on….I need to fucking let that fucking fucked up shit go. I for sure need to, and can, use that as a stepping stone to level the fuck up. …damn…

Let’s go with airplane rules this year – you’re only allowed to carry on 10kg of baggage

Airlines are great with setting their limits – carry on 10kg, luggage 20kg. Pack what you need, or pay an extra fee. How can we learn from this? What can we learn from this? Don’t we all have 20kg of shit we wish someone else would carry, isn’t that the shit we’d be fine if someone lost? – Got the insurance for it, pay me so I can replace it. The 20kg is stuff we want but don’t necessarily need, but we keep dragging it with us. Worse if you want to take on more, the cost of it…unbearable.. And what about the 10kg? Our carry on. The stuff we actually carry on with us because we think we really really need it. Is it wort it?

I just spent an amazing 10 days in the sun, in a magical place where people were happy, the water in the pool was nice, drinks kept coming up, and the people around me were awesome. I felt so great! Maybe it’s due to the vitamin D from the sun and vitamin C from the mimosas. Or maybe it’s the swims I took in the pool, and jumps in ocean, and the exercise my abs got from laughing with the other people I met that raised my serotonin and dopamine levels. Who knows. I even felt my depression and anxiety disorders were on break; or maybe I just forgot to pack them with me?

I keep thinking about this. Currently, sure, my work could be better. I could be dating Robert Downey Jr. My apartment definitely needs a proper cleaning. I’ve run out of good shows and movies on Netflix. I really need to lose weight. I don’t have a sense of purpose in my life. So I went to the store, bought a bottle of bubbles, opened it, poured a glass and thought to myself “it’s only Tuesday but man am I stressed out. I need this.”. Then another voice popped up in my head with a super judgy voice and body language. Oh yes, you could see its body language from the tone of its voice. “Are you stressed? Are you really? …and then I’m like “yes, duh, life”…and the annoying eye-rolling voice goes on with “YOU WOKE UP AT 10, HAD ONE CALL, ATE QUESIDALLES FOR LUNCH, HAD ANOTHER CALL, AND THEN MOVED ON TO WATHING REALITY SHOWS ON NETFLIX WHILE OCCASSIONALLY TOUCHING THE MOUSEPAD ON YOUR LAPTOP SO THAT YOU WOULD STAY ON GREEN AND PEOPLE WOULD THINK YOU’RE WORKING. YOU ARE NOT STRESSED”. I was shocked. I mean, the audacity, who does this voice think they are? And how are they not on my side? Pfft.

Let’s have a play by play on this one:

  • Am I stressed at work?  – hell no. Work is super chill right now. Sure I have my frustrations, but nothing to justify a 17 litre a week wine consumption (don’t worry, I’m exaggerating for dramatic effect… I’m only at 5 now, and climbing…)
  • Am I dating Robert Downey Jr? – again no. Buuuuut. Do I live in the same city, country, continent as he does? Also no. So kinda sorta feel like dropping him a “u up?” message on Instagram would also not get me anywhere. So, I guess. Just in my dreams then Robert…
  • Cleaning my apartment – definitely. Definitely need to clean it, although… I am spending an y amount of calories every day with my clothes-pile-slalom, jumping-over-cardboard-boxes -cardio, and reaching-for-things-I-cannot-get-to- yoga…
  • Netflix? – I got HBO, and Prime video, I’m actually good on this
  • Losing weight? – yup, yup. Should could focus on this…if only I knew how…I feel like there’s a mathematic solution to this with I don’t know, maybe -1 quesadillas per week? But we also need to take into consideration the need for extra exercise if I clean my apartment…so if x=losing weight, quesadillas z, and dirty-apartment-fun-run y, we’ll get to x = z-1 + y, at minimum (let’s not factor in the wine consumption)
  • Sense of purpose – now this is a difficult one. Although I don’t think I can find it from the bottom of the bottles I destroy…maybe I should spend some of napping and Netflix time on this……….

But! …damn…what was my point again? Right! Today grabbing that glass (read: bottle) of wine was not because I was actually stressed out. That was because it was a reaction to my past experiences, my past situations, my past feelings and triggers. In this moment, I’m not stressed out. Sure, I’ve had my glass (read: bottle) of sparkling wine, but what I’m also taking out from this is that there is a lot of shit I need to seriously let go. Seriously. I’m currently fine. I’ve had years and years of not being fine, years and years where that glass or few (read: …I’m sure you know it by now…) helped me get through the night. But now? I’m not there, I’ve moved on…but my triggers haven’t…so maybe it’s time for that airplane clean up? What do I actually need in 2022+ and what do I need to let go? What’s the stuff I don’t want to carry on anymore with me………..