Thank God for Therapy

Timelines being lengthened. Deadlines passing by. Adjustment after adjustment after adjustment needing to be made. My heart rate is increasing as I write this because even thinking about my next book makes me anxious. I’m afraid of disappointing my readers, disappointing my family, disappointing myself, and really afraid of disappointment in general.

I put so much pressure on myself. An unhealthy coping mechanism I learned from childhood. This shit is deeply ingrained. Like, if I say I’m going to accomplish something by a certain time, I have to do it. Regardless of what life throws at me.

*Inhale…exhale*

Now, I’m leaning into my therapeutic coping mechanisms:

First of all, GIRL!, you were working 2 jobs and pulling 16 hour workdays for months in a row to make ends meet. You reworked your financial budget, cancelled your Mexico trip, and got serious about saving. You pay 1000% of your own shit. Rent, car note, electric, gas bill, etc. Everything! In a piss-poor economy where the price of gas, groceries, rent, is fucking skyrocketing. That’s some tough shit, yet you still do it.

Secondly, GIRL!, the past year has been rough. A lot of the content in this next book has to do with this past year. So, it’s understandable that some of it is hard to write about and some things may need to wait for another book. That is okay! There is plenty of writing to be done.

And lastly, GIRL!, you deal with mentally draining mental health diagnoses DAILY that make functioning through life difficult. You get out of bed, even when it feels like you can’t. You make shit happen, even when your mind only sees failure. Survivorhood looks good on you! And you will continue to push through.

*Inhale…exhale*

Thank God for therapy.

Photo by Stephen Harlan, @gogostevie