Essay: Forgive Yourself For Not Being Perfect. Then Do It Again Tomorrow.

Hello, everyone! Here we have a picture of two dogs embracing and the words of Liz Welle. Both are equally comforting. Enjoy. – Kate


Given the state of everything in the world right now, there are really only two things I’m certain of anymore: I will never have a tampon in my purse when I need one, and I am relentless about making myself feel like shit. I would just like to brag for one second. I am excellent at constantly remembering everything I’m bad at and nothing I’m good at. (Does it sound like I’m fishing for compliments? Good, I am. Email them to me.) I am a huge fan at getting stuck in self-wallowing quicksand because thankfully, bless its little heart, anxiety refuses to discriminate and I am a lucky Chosen One. Anxiousness is personally one of my favorite hobbies and if they gave out blue ribbons for it I would have more than that one lady whose blueberry pie wins at your local county fair every year.

Maybe you, like me, are a delicate anxious leaf. Maybe you have an anxious attachment in relationships. Maybe you let insecurity shine through in 90% of your daily actions. Maybe you process things differently than most people and it causes your brain to spin out of control. Maybe you are a disorganized ADD-riddled wreck sometimes. Maybe it’s something else. Whatever it is, babe we just gotta keep on keepin’ on. We’re so quick to berate ourselves like being a human isn’t the hardest job in the world and as though brains aren’t the most complicated things on this planet? Like they aren’t home to millions of wires and neurons and feelings all just chillin? Like they occasionally may not sync up in a way we deem perfect? Wow. Crazy. Who woulda thought? Not me.

So you’re a mess? So what? Me too. So let’s push forward. Everyday. Slip backward. It’s okay. Pick yourself back up. Examine your behavior patterns. Maybe try and not do things that bring you to a really sad place where you want to just lay in bed 26 hours a day and never see anyone’s face again. Eat an orange. Give yourself a pep talk. You are worth daily pep talks. Misery Bay is the name of a city in Michigan that I’m sure is home to very nice people, it is not the name of your brain.

I know this is hard. You’ll get better at it. You’ll get better at not slipping into the trap of not appreciating everything about you that’s magic; the things that no one else has. We’ll one day be as sure of our self-worth as we are that dogs are the greatest thing on the planet. Some days we’ll fall off this little wagon we’re building and traveling on. We’ll get back on. We’ll do better. We’ll forge ahead. We have to. Maybe we’ll have it all figured out by the time our soul leaves our cute bodies but probably not so just make sure you’re being as nice to your heart as possible.

So let’s TRY. In 2017 let’s try to remember regularly (I am not above setting calendar reminders) that it is not an outlandish idea to have your own back. Even when you’re like “Dude, I really don’t like you right now,” (that was you talking to yourself). Then forgive yourself when you screw it all up. Cup your own chin in your hands like those really hot guys do to those really hot girls in Tumblr photos and remind yourself that your spirit is busy growing and it’s going to be a messy trip that might make you queasy sometimes. It’s meant to. Then have some pancakes.

This time of year is incredibly difficult and quite frankly I am having difficulty not seeing the glass half empty from December to April. My brain chooses on bathing in a hot tub of negativity when we have three hours of daylight a day; it’s amazing. Do your best to stay brave, which should be easy considering you are a unicorn. You keep forgetting that but it’s true.

 

screen-shot-2016-11-29-at-4-21-00-pmLIZ WELLE IS A PROFESSIONAL FEELINGS FEELER BUT GETS PAID TO DO SOCIAL AND DIGITAL STUFF FOR BRANDS IN MINNEAPOLIS WHILE OCCASIONALLY FOOD STYLING ON THE SIDE. SHE LIVES IN UPTOWN WITH HER BOYFRIEND AND THEIR THIRTEEN PLANTS. SHE IS DOING HER BEST
Image of Liz Welle: Voxland Photo