The Return…

A Reflection on What I Want to Be

Last November, my partner and I were given less than 30 days to find a new apartment. Otherwise, our next lease would include an almost 15% rent increase. This rent increase would be unmanageable based on our income, so the choice was made for us. In about three weeks, we packed up our two-bedroom apartment that we called home for three years, and with the help of our parents and our friends, Thanksgiving weekend involved moving trucks, walking up and down four flights of stairs dozens of times, and oh… did I mention that it rained the entire day?

Anyone who moves a lot will tell you that moving forces you to reflect and question why you own what you own. Why do I have four large boxes of yarn I haven’t used yet? How many sewing projects do I need to hold on to when I haven’t dusted off my sewing machine in 3 years? Do I need a fondue pot? Yada Yada Yada…

And looking at my extensive collection of stuff that I have collected without using, I recognized a dissonance in how I viewed myself. Generally, when discussing self-improvement, we identify a linear path from “Who I am now” to “Who I want to be.” My extensive craft library and burgeoning closet were emblematic of this. In college, I embraced minimalism, and Marie Kondo’s “Does this spark joy?” became my mantra. I generally think of myself as pretty ruthless when it comes to holding onto the things I own, choosing only the clothes and items I love the most. However, even being confronted with box after box of stuff I hadn’t touched in months, and sometimes even years, didn’t shake me. Despite the office in our last apartment looking like a Michael’s craft store threw up, I couldn’t get rid of any of it — everything brought me joy.

Or… the thought of the thing brought me joy.

For years, when I closed my eyes and imagined my dream life, I was a nonstop creator. I sewed, painted, and gardened. I kept the house clean and spent an hour at the gym daily. I wore sharp, sleek dresses and heels to work, and made myself fancy lunches I’d eat on my lunch break. I scrapbooked, made my own paper, and learned how to reuse candles. And somehow I would still find time to practice my violin, write short stories, watch TV, go to the movies with my husband, play video games, and hang out with my friends. And the chaos I packed away into U-Haul moving boxes reflected who this dream version of me was.

There’s a glaring issue with that, though. That’s not me. I don’t make time in my day-to-day life to do most of those things. I could have made time for it. I read, watched YouTube videos, and played Fortnite with my friends. I even finished knitting and crocheting a few queen-sized blankets. Looking back, I see that I could have chosen to work on the sewing projects I have had tucked in the corner of my living room (which now lives in a space bag in a closet). So do these things spark joy?

Around this time, as challenging times often do, I asked myself what I wanted. October had been a terrible month for my mental and physical health, and as many people do, I felt my time slip through my fingers; the hope for my progress towards my goals evaporating, and I felt myself grasping at straws for any control of my time so I could feel joy. I wanted desperately not to be either exhausted, sleeping, cooking dinner, or working, and for weeks, my husband heard me pray for time to write. All I wanted to do was write, and I was furious that I couldn’t even carve out a couple of hours to sit down, set a Pomodoro timer, and create something.

Do you see the disconnect?

When talking about self-improvement, I need to consider three versions of myself—who I am now (which hasn’t changed), but there are two versions of future me: who I want to be and who will actually make me happy. I love the idea of being these other people: someone who loves to sew and make elaborate costumes for Renaissance Faires, or someone who quilts; someone who dresses up and goes to bars with friends and does karaoke; someone who doesn’t wear sweatpants, even on days where I’m stuck at home doing chores; and many other someones too. I can continue to make excuses for why I can’t be that person, like not having enough time, energy, or space, which can all be valid reasons… but they’re not. Even when I make these things my priority, I put so much energy into avoiding them. Why would I want to be a person who does these things when I’m not the kind of person who wants to do these things?

I got caught up in the image. Social media gives us these unlimited snapshots of other people’s lives and interests, and I was inspired, but not enough to make the time to be that “dream person.” I realized that I wasn’t daydreaming about the person I wanted to be; I was daydreaming about the person I think I should be. And the guilt that comes along with “should” is debilitating.

Today

It’s been 6 months, and I haven’t made as much progress towards my goals as I would like or written as frequently as I would like, but my to-do list isn’t a mile long anymore. I’m terrible at prioritizing tasks, so I would take on too much, and all of it would feel like life-or-death. By simplifying my days, it’s easier to prioritize the mandatory tasks (i.e., going to work, cooking dinner, doing laundry) and still have time to do the things that bring me joy. I’m not left with a pit in my stomach when I go to bed because I failed to meet my own expectations — expectations that I set for myself based on false pretenses (the belief that I should be someone else).

Moving forward, I aim to honor myself and be a more authentic version of me! I want to continue to shut down the shoulds, confidently make choices that make my life better, and fill it with joy.

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