My daily commute is two hours, and there is not much to say beyond that-- with the exception of a few highlights including flying deer, car accidents, and the occasional middle finger-- incidentally committed by both parties if I am being an honest writer. Save for a Spotify playlist and angry drivers-- the car occupied by me, myself, and I lies quiet.
Quiet is a perfect place for big thoughts.
This morning as I made the commute, there were several accidents-- a daily occurrence as of lately. As my Spotify playlist moved, but the living hell of traffic remained stationary (come on people-- pay attention!!) I could feel frustration rising, as my face gave way to red before eventually crying on the free way.
You know-- the cry that isn't from just the relevant incident really, but actually from that annoyance, and the four days-- or months of really big things prior where you didn't cry? Yeah-- that cry. The ugly cry.
Ugly cry is not my friend. She ignites the piece of my brain that holds my body hostage from a "good night's sleep." This mind plays back every incident in life, both true and un-- and gives what seem to be excellent reasons why I am the sole proprietor for blame in each scenario. I sit in an emotion many of us can relate to-- and it is called shame.
My mind races beyond the living hell of RLS in a traffic accident, and I begin to think of everything I must get done, while fighting the urge to beat myself in a verbal rage for still not emailing or calling so-and-so, or perhaps-- getting things ready for a future-- not having a clue what that looks like. Real talk: still working on that whole 'not self deprecating thing.' I fear failure, so the reminder of making mistakes and me being a mistake plays through my head, as if it were a life anthem for only myself.
But I know I am not the only one who deals with this.
Cognitive distortions take hold, pulling reality through a fun house mirror, except the mind fails to realize the reflection is merely an inaccurate perception. In the middle of the freeway-- the thought train traverses from a traffic accident, to "I should have left earlier," (and I already left with 20 minutes buffer), to "you are letting everyone down (when it ended up being I was only five minutes late and a lot of my coworkers were also having difficult mornings)," to "your coworkers probably don't even like you. You are a fuckup," to finally--"you made a mistake... no. You are a mistake."
So to recap-- ugly mess. Freeway. Moving slightly faster-- still bleak. Manage to wallow a voice commanded text to a coworker before resuming self-pity mode.
Cue my Spotify lists changing themselves. There was a song that came on, and miraculously got me to shut my mouth for long enough to listen to its lyrics. As the bridge came on-- I heard the words "You are not a mistake. You are not a mistake. For I know the plans I have for you, to give you a hope and a future"
Not going to lie: there were perhaps some (read: a lot) of tears after that-- but it felt-- lighter? If that makes sense. When I begin beating myself down, or trying to beat off a cloud of depression, one of my biggest struggles as of lately has been accepting I am allowed to have negative emotions. Funny how we can show compassion to others, but we can be such bullies to ourselves. The words you are not a mistake sat in my head like an old friend as I carried through my day-- attempting to change the way I look at my shortcomings.
This bridge came up again as I interacted with my coworkers throughout the day. Each of us bringing our best into the workplace-- but taking those quiet moments to acknowledge each other as people who make human mistakes, and have struggles. Something I think everyone can relate to. As I began the evening commute-- this continued to sit with me, and I felt the overwhelming urge to share this:
You may feel inadequate, but you are not inadequate. You make mistakes, but you are not those mistakes. There is a time and place where yes, we need to be able to put on a good face for whatever we are doing, but there is no weakness in admitting our vulnerabilities and fears. We are allowed to be unsure, and feel fear in that. We are allowed to cry. We are allowed to kick and stomp, and feel hurt and unsure. It is called being human.
Take peace in knowing despite any mistakes and uncertainties-- you are loved.
Comments
Post a Comment