Monday.
I wake up feeling drained. There’s no meditation, nor herbal tea, nor song that can fix it. I can feel my energy levels have gone down the drain.
Hideki sends me the audio file so I can have a listen and work on the summary to post it tomorrow. I find myself over-analysing every single aspect and recognise I don’t go very gentle. I talk too much. I should’ve done this instead of that, uh… maybe I should’ve said that in a different way. There’s so much I would improve…I am hard on myself as I used to. I try really hard to calm that voice down but it’s too loud.
She goes over and over the same things. Loud and clear criticism on a loop.
The worst of all is that insecurity does not mix well with tiredness. It’s a dangerous molotov cocktail for whoever holds it. And I spend the first 8 hours of the day with that bomb ticking on my right hand. Pressing hard.
And today I find myself avoiding the thing I loved the most. And I am so tempted to say “fuck the world. I don’t want to write anymore. Farewell to the diaries”. But I contain myself because my inner drive still pushes to get it done —whenever I’m ready.
I guess that might be the difference between obsession and drive: the grounded patience. My inner drive doesn’t press me, but my loud perfectionism punches harder every hour. And it’s a hard battle.
Mom asks me how I’m doing and I say I’m chilling this evening. I’m too tired. I can feel her relief even on a text message. She’s been telling me I’ve been doing quite a lot very intensively and I should give myself a break. We can’t be productive everyday. Treat yourself with kindness.
And I think about it and my inner nasty voice goes “Oh. So you go on telling everyone to be kind with themselves and here you are, being hard on yourself… that’s a bit hypocrite, don’t you think?” She’s using every excuse under the sun to make me feel bad. Even if that means shooting her foot. She wants control and she doesn’t care.
She’s bitchy to that level.
But I’m glad she tries to make me feel bad about it because this time I listen and act. I’m treating myself with kindness. I walk the talk. I go gentle and think of my options for the day: I have relaxing yoga in the evening which is helping so much with releasing the tension. Good. That can stay.
The rest goes away. I focus on resting, and do nothing. I give myself the space I need, and after the session I decide to watch a movie. And if I feel like, I can write. No pressure. Time and space.
The nasty voice is still around, but she’s not as loud and bitchy and that’s good enough. And I don’t press myself because she’s not gone for once and for all. Not this time. I understand she’s going to come back and forth to check how much power she’s got over me. But for the first time I’m not dragged down by her. I’m fine with it because I know she’ll leave as soon as I treat myself with a bit of kindness. As soon as I’m back to be gentle with myself.
And it’s not perfect, but it doesn’t need to be. She’s not completely gone but she’s not as mine as she used to. And that’s the biggest act of kindness I could do to myself.
And somehow I feel like writing again. Even though it’s late and not the right day. But I write, not because I have to, but because I want to.
My inner drive was right. All I needed was kindness.