I'm Bettering Myself So Why Don't I Feel Better About Myself?

The crazy thing about being sad right now is that for the first time in many of our young lives the world is sad with you. Previously, the worst part about being sad is that you feel alone. Like no one else in the world has ever felt the sadness you are currently feeling. But now, it’s different. Kinda! Because of the current state of our planet, we’re all sort of feeling the same thing. Every text and call and email can begin with a similar “boy this sucks” theme which can apply to SO many different parts of our lives. The world is a heaping pile of trash so, like many of us, I’ve tried so many ways to make sure I am not also a heaping pile of trash.

I do a lot of things because the internet told me it was a good thing to do. I drink a gallon of water a day, because the internet told me drinking more water could better my health. I bike to work rather than drive, because the internet told me climate change could start and end with me. (I also don’t have a car but let’s not get into my finances right now. One struggle at a time, please.) I buy clothes that look incredible on models because the internet promoted them to me. I am doing what the internet told me to do to better myself. Water, exercise, and looking good. I mean, she’s doing it all. There’s just one problem with my plan.

It’s not fucking working.

I have spent hours upon hours working on myself and lately I feel like it’s done shit. How could this BE? I’ve done the research, I’ve planned, I’ve cooked, I’ve ran, I’ve walked, I’ve biked, I’ve smiled, I’ve positively affirmed, I’ve done it. Whatever you can imagine health to look like, I’ve done it. And I still don’t feel better. I still spend some days just staring at my screen so unbelievably sad I can’t even remember what I was sad about. I want to believe I’m not the only one feeling this way but some days it really feels like I am. Like I’m the only one sad during a pandemic. Eye roll.

When I figured out how to be happy years ago, I didn’t think it’d take more work. I thought I’d find the magic formula and never think about it again. But I’m learning this year that that’s just not how this works. You accumulate the tools that work for you and hold them close like precious stones. They work sometimes. And sometimes they don’t. Then you find yourself being so mad at yourself for not being able to shake those thoughts you’ve had since you were 10. The thoughts that you’re not thin enough. Or naturally pretty enough. Or brave enough. Thoughts you really believed were gone are suddenly back into your life.

So. What do you do now?

I dunno. Fuck. I really don’t know. Binging America’s Next Top Model didn’t work so I really don’t know what will. Everything seems so bleak. I’m so frustrated with the world and myself. Why am I not happy right now? I have my skin care routine. I run almost every day. I have an incredible support system of friends and family who love me. I even like my job. My JOB, y’all. I’m so sad with a perfectly fine life. What am I in a holiday themed ROM COM? I don’t know the tools to solve this. I thought I had them but they’re not working this time. I have tears in my eyes just writing this and thinking about all those years I spent working on myself. It feels like it’s for not. At least it does, right now.

Which. Isn’t forever.

I do know deep down this isn’t permanent. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel. And yeah, the bulb is from Ikea and it’s one of those energy saving ones so you need to move to turn it on but now you’re waving your arms in air like a deranged muppet. Muppets are cute though. And so am I. The sun sets sooner now but that doesn’t mean we have to get comfortable with the dark. I know I can pull out of this.

Someone somewhere once said that laughter is the best medicine. This is incorrect. Medicine is the best medicine. But those laughs you have that are so deep in your belly can feel like a cure sometimes. The laughs you think about just to smile to yourself. Your abs hurt and it feels like a workout laugh. I want a laugh like that. I’ve spent so much of this year not laughing. So much of this year grieving and angry. All this energy given to things out of my control. It’s caught up with me. I’m so consumed by it I’m literally writing a blog about it. Writing also feels like medicine right now. I’ll keep making fun of myself for doing so but I want to get back into blogging. This is familiar and comforting. Like an old sweater or double stuffed Oreos and peanut butter.

Now, laugh with me while I make this ridiculous proclamation. It’s going to be okay.