February & March
Unfortunately, maintaining this blog has been on the back-burner for the past month or two. I’m trying to reduce my screen time and embrace empty space and boredom to spark creativity. I haven’t put together anything superiorly polished, but here are some thoughts that have been tumbling around my mind since my January reflection. Thanks for keeping it real with me, readers.
Relearning & Unlearning
February was comprised of lots of ups and downs, as though my body was catching up to my brain. Things I’ve mulled over in my mind and moved on from, I haven’t necessarily let my body grieve, so it was bound to happen sometime. February was a month of unlearning and reconstructing several ideas and beliefs I was holding on to. Here are 10 perspectives I am continuing to work through:
1. Unlearning that a job or career defines my success. A job can be anything from a monetized hobby to merely a way to pay the bills. As far as I’m concerned, if I can pay my bills and I’m not miserable at work, then I am in a sustainable place for the time being.
2. Unlearning the use social media as a source of validation. I never believed I sought out validation on social media because I wasn’t necessarily posting for anyone else but myself and my own artistic whims. Lately, I’ve been noticing that I have difficulty feeling present and good about my life unless I imagine someone else witnessing its beauty, almost like I need an audience to feel purposeful. Unfortunately, this keeps me from being attentive to my needs, desires, and goals outside of my tiny hand-held television. Being a social media manager has certainly taken away some of the zest for Instagram, but the mere fact that I feel less important because I am posting less personal content regularly is hoisting up a big red flag.
3. Relearning embodiment. Away from my college dance studio and the incredible contemporary classes I got to take there, I don’t have a space where my body knows it will be fully tended to regularly. It was so easy when I had set time—twelve hours a week—to dedicate to learning about and listening to my body language. Now, I am starting fresh, learning how to be with my body and keep present in this post-baccalaureate life.
4. Relearning the difference between observing emotions as they happen and intellectualizing those emotions into suppression. Observing them as they happen without judgement still allows my body to feel it all. Intellectualizing emotions so I acknowledge them, but never actually feel them, leads to increasing emotional pressure. My emotions feel explosive and indescribable, as if I am a toddler who can’t articulate her feelings, only understanding that stomping and rolling on the floor gets the feelings out. So, I restarted using a brain dump journal, like a designated mental room where I can let any and everything out without anyone else knowing. It’s the place I go to express without any judgement from myself. I can make a big deal of the person who walked a little too slow for my liking at the grocery store if I need to, because eventually the actual problem will clarify. I have to start relieving pressure slowly before the cap can come off.
5. Unlearning perfectionism. I don’t have to do something extraordinary to be doing something meaningful. Meaningful work does not have to be revolutionary. Right now, I feel like I am doing meaningful work by hosting for a restaurant and doing social media for them. This feels more meaningful to me than what I was doing last year as a behavioral therapy technician. I never thought I’d say that, but its true. Why? Because I am honoring my own needs all while being able to connect with different kinds of people and providing them with a positive experience.
6. Relearning what intrinsic motivation feels like. I used to get this mixed up with perfectionism. Letting go of the desire to be perfect didn’t make me lazy, I just didn’t know what intrinsic motivation looked like without crippling anxiety and fear of making mistakes. I’m starting to understand that intrinsic motivation is gentler, a little voice of desire that powers me up to do things I want to do, simply because I feel like it.
7. Unlearning the idea that my life has a script I am destined to follow. I certainly didn’t think I would rescind my grad school applications, have a girlfriend, live with my soul sister, help care for a nibling, or live in the Twin Cities after I graduated from college. Yet, here I am, so happy to be here. So what if I didn’t follow a plan I drew up for myself when I was 18?
8. Relearning what I like and don’t like. I mean this at the most basic level. I’m trying new activities, jobs, meeting new people, reading new genres of books… all of it. I want to make sure I actually like what I’m doing, being intentional about my decisions, big and small. I want to like the life I’m building, outside of whatever it is society tells me I’m supposed to be doing.
9. Unlearning productivity as means of producing a complete outcome. I found myself, during the past couple months, only making art when I knew it would yield a finished product. That took the fun out of the art-making process and totally stubbed my freedom to experiment with different mediums. Trying something new is productive. Making an incomplete work is productive. Doing nothing is productive. Day-dreaming is productive. Making a mess is productive. Having an important conversation is productive. Laughing is productive. Productivity does not have to be attached to any particular goal, outcome, or tangible product. It is so much more.
10. Unlearning the need to feel qualified before participating. As a recovering perfectionist, trying something new, especially in a group setting, knowing I won’t be the best at it is extremely intimidating. Making any kind of public mistake sends me into a panic. This is rooted in the belief that I have to be good at something before I try it, which makes very little sense logically. Lately, I’ve been embracing the new activities I’m trying as a means to let myself get used to making mistakes, noticing how those “mistakes” aren’t the end of the world, nor do they make me a bad person. I wiff and miss the ball in a high-intensity pickleball game? Oops! I unknowingly hurt my friends feelings? Yikes! I’ll apologize and we’ll be okay. These are small steps, but feel gigantic to me, and I’m doing the damn thing.
