A lot of us have insecurities. I for one have so many of them. The way I look and the way I should look, the amount of money I have (or don’t have would be the better phrasing), material possession I own (again, don’t own would sound more accurate), how much I’ve achieved and what other kids my age are doing with their lives – whether it be getting a PhD or having their third child or just been a good human being – and since of recent, how much I weigh. The latter is mostly a combination of irregular workout habits (yes, that is a thing and that does result in awkward weight fluctuations) as a result of an overload of other responsibilities and having a shit hole for an immune system.
But then the more I think about it, the more I am convinced that these are things that I dislike about myself as opposed to feel insecure about. I mean that is if there is a difference all together. No, but then there is a difference.
See this is why I am turning out to be such a bad writer and why I am feeling all the more “insecure” about this path I’ve chosen as a writer. I see other writers, lots other writers, my age, younger than me, older than me, doing wonderful things with their words and here I am trying to piece together a decent sentence without it being too long, but alas I failed at that too. I should probably go wash dishes with my many bars of Vim.
See I dislike the way I look (I mean there is nothing I can do to help the face, or at least nothing that I can afford to do) especially with my awkward hairline and the messy wavy hair that does not do the Tumblr esque high bun that I hoped for, but I am insecure about my weight, because I know that there are kilos that need to go back to wherever that came from. But then, what am I doing about it, besides ranting about it on my never-so-frequently update blog? Well, there is exercise that happens, but halfway because I feel terrible, unfit, horrendously useless. GAH.
(there was Natalie Tran video I was looking for but did not find but you should check her out either way, she’s all types of awesome)
Which makes me feel all the more worse to have complained on first world pains. But then that’s what social media is also about noh? The development world I work for and the volunteering over the years have I would like to think made me more sensitive and what not, but then there are times when hormones and self-pity beat you to it.
This in turn brings me back to my favourite topic of conversation: happiness. I usually go for “content” given its inclination towards being a relatively more stable emotion but when it is “happiness” that is question, my go-to response is it being a manifestation of whatever you make of it, if that makes sense. But then, what makes me happy? Because more often than not, happiness to me, revolves around material, I do not have.
I suppose this also partly revolves around the struggle towards happiness. One of the earliest “adult-ish” lessons I’ve acquired from literature is the importance of the struggle. Because if not for a struggle, one’s achievement would not be great and you would not be remembered. But in hindsight now that I look at it, I cannot help but wonder if it is this struggle that is keeping me from walking down the yellow brick road in front of me and to a place called “happiness”.
It’s difficult at times like this I suppose to focus on all the good that revolves around you and all the material that you do own, but then for now let’s just dismiss it as being influenced by hormones, miserable weather (the rain specifically), long days and the sense of purposelessness life seems to carry right now.
<I don’t even feel like my usual heart but what the heck ❤ >