The Girl Without A Face

I had this thought today, “What if I just didn’t try to accomplish anything?” What if I just settled into my silly little life, worked my insignificant job. What if I didn’t change any lives. What if I didn’t write a best selling novel, or become a multi-million dollar business owner? What is my ultimate goal? Is it easy, enjoyable living? Or do I have to impact the world to prove I’m worthy of being here?

I’ve always felt like I had something to prove. I’ve always felt misunderstood. I thought that made me unique, I thought that my circumstances made me stand out. I thought that my work ethic would get me to the top. I thought burning myself out would eventually pay off. I still have some of those tendencies even though I’d like to say I’ve overcome my need for approval. I’d love to say I’m living for me, but why do I continue to have these unreachable goals? Why does it feel so wrong to just enjoy where I am? Why am I always looking for that one thing that’s going to finally give me the break I’ve been seeking my whole life. When will I finally be able to say, “this is it”.

Sometimes I think, “Well, once I get out of debt I’ll feel settled.” “Once I write a novel I’ll be happy.” “Once I open my own business I’ll feel like I’ve finally made it.” It used to be “Once I get married” but that ship has long since sailed, I no longer dream of a perfect love. Hell, I’m skeptical if I’ll ever go on a halfway decent first date again. But what if this was it. What if it ended today, would I feel accomplished? Can I finally stop running? This was what ran through my head this morning.

I’ve raised an amazing son, he 16 almost 17. I am laser focused on getting him to the finish line of high school. Preparing him for the next steps into the world. I’ve had so many different jobs. I’ve survived a complete mental breakdown. A lot of trauma. I bought a house, raised my son, kept sometimes 2 or 3 jobs on my own. Now, I have the luxury of working completely from home. I read all the time. I’ve gotten to know and love myself. Lately, it’s like I’ve been trying to find something more. To keep myself busier than I am. What if what I’m doing now is enough? What if I just enjoyed my life, left the rest behind. What if anything that felt hard or unenjoyable that also wasn’t necessary for me to do I just stopped doing it. What if I stopped pushing myself to be the best. Would it be alright if I never “made it”? Am I ok with just being ordinary?

It’s odd, because when I asked myself this, it was relief that I felt. I don’t need to prove my worth to myself. I don’t need to continue to work myself to the bone to feel I deserve to take up my small space on this earth. I can relax. I can do my silly little job, complete my silly little tasks. I can slow down. I can read my books. I can just enjoy my existence. Why take it so serious anyways? No one makes it out in the end.