A personal essay

About happiness, or whatever.

I am really, really tired. I never post anything really that related to my life on here anymore and there’s no particular reason for it – a kind of subconscious self-consciousness in part, or an attempt to maintain a carefree image. I do write every single day. Usually complaining. Often drafting poems. Mostly documenting the changes in the weather as things go from shit to slightly-less-shit. But the fact is that I find it hard to be straightforward or honest  – with friends, colleagues, on here. Everything is a joke or shrouded in so much metaphor that it becomes invisible.

I like my life more than I ever have. I love my home. Moving out of Leicester to Brighton was the best decision I ever made, and as it turns to summer it will only get better. My life here in summer is barbecues, shopping, drinking, rollerskating – relatively carefree days with my friends. I also like my job and it gives me the freedom to do what I really love – the aforementioned sunny days, reading, hanging out with my dog. At the end of the summer I’ll travel back to California, something that I need to look forward to to give my days meaning. I’m currently writing more than ever – I completed my poetry book, I write freelance for a bunch of sites including Hello Giggles, and I’m writing a novel. I have so many ideas and so much to look forward to. I have never felt better.

Despite this, there are still so many things that darken even the sunniest of Brighton days. I am a huge worrier. I panic constantly that I will be fired, everyone hates me, my writing sucks, I’m too old (at 23) and haven’t achieved enough. I miss the past and yet am desperate for a better future simultaneously. I have suffered with my mental health, and while my depression, obsessive compulsions and eating disorder sit at the back of my mind, they are always there. I force myself to work harder than I should, constantly, in spite of my poor health, because I am never enough. I am never happy with any single achievement. I need feedback on every single thing I do. I rarely write or create something that won’t be seen and give me instant recognition and gratification. I am all at once equal parts narcissistic and insecure.

I am also very sick. I cannot eat anything without getting huge stomach problems, and tomorrow I go into surgery to get some stuff checked out. I also suffer daily with headaches and less frequent migraines and am dependent on painkillers to get through any single day. It’s hard to enjoy the things I love about my life when I am exhausted, malnourished, and worried about my health.

But I’m coping. I have a few days this weekend to gather my thoughts, get my head together, and try to write some words that aren’t for money. I want to work on my book and look after myself and try to be a less shit, mean, busy person. I want to be happy. I spent my formative years desperately unhappy, searching for moments of joy in single days – concerts, camp outs, parks. I still do that, booking trips and days out to pick up my life momentarily; but I am working cobstsntly on building a sustainable happiness. I’m partway there but I wish I could just relax ever and enjoy what I’ve done. I will never match up to ths unrealistic idea of who I should be by now.

Sorry to be boring – but it is my little blog, after all.

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13 Comments

Filed under Personal

13 responses to “A personal essay

  1. trE

    Always. Always. Always. Write what you feel in the space that is yours. Don’t apologize for it. I hope you find your happy place and that you’ll get the chance to truly stay there.

  2. It’s wonderful to glimpse the personal in other bloggers and know they are human rather than a page full of talent, so don’t apologise it is your space.

  3. nr

    Going to be 39 in a few days. From where I sit, can tell you for sure many of the things we obsess over in our 20s stop to matter in 30s. And once you hit late thirties, it hits you that you may not have too many years left on here. So life slowly begins to take a new different, unhurried, un-approval-seeking shape. You’ve got 16 more years to write than i have, and you’re writing so much more than i ever have. You’re indeed lucky.
    And it’s true that past pain, depression and suffering remain in a corner of our minds. But like i said, once it hits you that you dont have eons left and you wont ever get to live this life again, you learn to let things be. Dont even have to try too hard, it just happens.

    • Thank you for your comment. I’m an incredibly obsessive person by nature so it’s not so much age as ingrained but I hope it fades a little! Thanks x

    • + I don’t think 23 is old it’s worth noting! It’s just about the perhaps unrealistic personal goals I set for myself. I also have health troubles so I worry I have less time than others. Thanks again! X

  4. You…boring…never…liked…always. Take care…Eric.

  5. It’s good to read what you have written here, not because what you describe is easy but because the way you describe it is so easy to absorb. You’re a good writer, you clearly have interesting things to say; and at 23 (I’m 53 – still battling it out, too!), you’re definitely not too old to continue saying what you say. 🙂 Thank you for sharing this.

    • Thank you so much! That means a lot. Don’t worry, it isn’t that I think 23 is old necessarily, just that I set a lot of goals for what I think I should have achieved by now. Thank you!

  6. You are so young and to have published poetry already, that is amazing. Sending healing happy thoughts your way and it’s nice to get a glimpse within the inner workings of a writer. Keep on writing, it is beautiful stuff and the weather will change, it always does….like life, constantly evolving. Peace and love, K

  7. Vice

    Also 23. Been pushing self to limit for past two years. Not worth it. We live in a work culture. We need lots of sunlight and fresh air and time spent laying in the grass. Climbing and sweating and fucking and listening and yes, working. But overwork makes stressmind and stressperson stunts potential. Rather be the tree grows tall than the flower blooms early then wilts.

  8. Vice

    Bullshit work culture, unrealistic expectations breed drug addicts, TV addicts, party addicts.

  9. Vice

    You’re awesome I love you relax

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