FEAR AND SELF-LOATHING

So, I'll admit it, I'm lost. I know exactly how I got here, but I don't know how to go anywhere else.
I know people say the journey is the most rewarding part, but that's hindsight and I'm not there yet. I'm not resilient when it comes to vulnerability, rejection, fear, anxiety, doubt and the unknown. I don't like surprises. I can't handle secrets. I'm not intrigued by mystery. And, yet, that's what my life is completely right now.

I'm not handling it well.

I'm using books like a map. I'm asking for directions. But, it took me a little too long to accept that I don't exactly know where I'm going and driving carelessly along back country roads feels good for a while, but eventually you're ready to find something, a pit stop if nothing else.

As soon as I can swat away one thing that's causing me to be anxious, I answer it with another reason. I'm confused because I want to tell myself I've made a huge mistake, but my gut cuts right in and tells me that's not true. The freedom I just felt has been quickly replaced with guilt for not having done enough with this time so far. I'm dodging phone calls and avoiding people. I'm tuning out and binging Gossip Girl. I tell myself it's OK because I applied to five jobs today or went to spin class, did yoga, cleaned out that closet. I can't seem to accept that change takes time and give myself a break that I set myself up to be comfortable for a good chunk of it. I know transformation is powerful, but the process is painful.

This afternoon, I pulled the car over and just let myself break down. To feel all the things I haven't wanted to acknowledge. To take off the mask that everything's fine. To let myself feel angry and hopeless and frustrated and unfiltered and mean and the one I've been avoiding most of all -- failure.

I've never really done that one before. I haven't let myself.

My whole life has had a plan. I followed all the steps. All the rules. It took me pretty far, but now it's my turn to navigate all by myself and I find myself just sitting here stalled with my hazard lights flashing. People stop by to ask if I need help, offer suggestions to get going again, give me reassurance it's going to be ok, I'll find my way. I appreciate the gesture, but dismiss it all almost immediately.

I don't have a choice but to keep going. So, I will and I do. A song will come on, the windows will go down, I'll feel the freedom again as my hair blows with the breeze. I'll find my way. I'll get there eventually. I'll try to be grateful for the journey a little more. But, most importantly, I have to remember that as long as I'm still moving forward, I haven't failed.

Not yet.