No, It's not 50/50

All this beauty, & still

You can be with someone you love and still feel completely alone. It’s not their fault. You can be in a great relationship and still have shitty days. They didn’t do anything wrong. Everything in your life can be beautiful, and you can still feel like something is missing. I think that’s normal.

We are not perfect beings. We are constantly seeking. We can be grateful and still desire more. It’s in our DNA to want things. We are homebodies. We are travelers. We have the capacity to give and take and sometimes, not in equal measure. I correct myself: it’s never 50-50.

I am so lucky to have a best friend I can call and crumble into. But it sucks when he’s not in the city and an emotional disaster day decides to show up uninvited. I trust myself to handle it. And I do…because I’m hyper-independent. But knowing that I don’t have to deal with it alone, that someone will hold space for me, helps.

I am lucky that he tells me I’m beautiful every single day. That he loves me every single day. Whether I want to hear it or not, it’s always there. And yet, my self-concept about beauty and my body is already whole. I think I’m beautiful. I feel confident in my body. It is a vessel that holds my spirit, and I like to take care of it. I love exercising it; through yoga, swimming, nature walks, climbing mountains. I love scrubbing it, lathering it with scented lotions. I love to look good for me, whatever version satisfies me. And that makes me feel good about myself.

So what’s the problem?

Sigh. I am an extremely sensitive person. I analyze a situation until the toast turns black, until there’s a lump in my throat and I can barely speak. I’m still untangling myself from people-pleasing. And sometimes, the things that stress me out surprise me. Yesterday I cried for twenty minutes because I hate (and yes, I use that word sparingly, but this occasion calls for it) making resumes. I loathe the idea of creating a CV and sending it off like some desperate plea. It has never made sense to me. I don’t like doing it. I hate the idea of a nine-to-five, of being chained to a desk making presentations. It’s painfully clear to me that this is not the life I want to live. And yet, the thought that I might have to do it, to build a security fund stresses me out beyond belief.

I was looking at myself in the mirror, crying, hugging myself, telling myself, I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay. It’s all okay. I’m strong. I’m beautiful. I’m capable. I can do this. I can do this. I didn’t believe it at first, so I kept saying it until I did. And then I cried even more when I did believe that I can make a resume. Ugh.

So, what kind of life do I want?

I want to build my life at home with you. I want to do something that pays me to work from anywhere in the world. I don’t want an office environment. The work life drained me completely in Dubai, and half the time, it kept me away from the things that make me feel alive moving, writing, being in nature, being with you, painting, climbing mountains. I kid you not, the fondest memories I have from my life in Dubai are with family. Are from beginning to run. From camping. From watching movies at home. I don’t even think about Silicon Oasis anymore. & the internship is what got me there in the first place but I don’t even think about or remember my work!

I want a life that lets me breathe, that lets me be. That’s all.

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