I never thought it possible to feel ungrateful and unappreciated while simultaneously feeling needed and irreplaceable. A strange concoction of unsettled, uninspired, and underwhelmed with a dash of fulfillment, contentment and sentiment. A marriage of opposing ingredients teetering between balance and utter envelopment.
See, what I do is not necessarily valued. What I provide and what I complete day in and day out; as a woman, as a mother, as a human, as a professional, is not highly esteemed or revered. I won’t be in any type of hall of fame, encyclopedia, novel or featured story. Isn’t everyone supposed to get their 30 seconds of fame? Is that what I even want? I don’t deserve accolades for caring. For taking on the mental load of others, reserving head space for the mundane tasks many others don’t think of because “someone else '' is doing them, or for being an adult. You don't get a trophy for doing these types of things, or a shelf to put it on for that matter.
It is as if I have out of body experiences that make no sense at all; running through a maze of never-ending dichotomies and (what I think is) necessary placating. Fully knowing that I give every last bit of myself, loving hard, working hard, trying hard - so, so hard. In the end, I have very little chance of receiving a fraction of it back. No matter how much I will or plead or hope or wish, I cannot force an equal amount of effort. From anyone. But just because I cannot force it, does not mean I have to accept it.
Effort is a funny thing. When put forth for the right reasons, it can lay the foundation for beautiful, useful, artful and joyful things. Yet, when exerted for selfish reasons- whether it’s recognition, ambition, competition or superstition, it can lead to sadness, disappointment and frustration. In the end, effort is like so many other things; a balancing act.
Care, but not too much. Try, but not too hard. Love, but not too boldly. Give, but for the right reasons. Speak, but not too loudly. Hold on, but not too tight. Feel, but not too deeply.
I must put as much effort into myself as I put into others. But if it’s that simple of a concept, why does it feel virtually impossible? It could be that I’m dodging in and out of the shadows, at times seen, but never for the real me. Knowing I’m only seen as a projected image - the object between the light and surface, doesn’t help prove my worth. If it takes such an effort for me to realize my own worth, it’s no wonder others follow suit.
I’ve thought at times I am hard to love, easy to cast aside and worthless. But knowing there are reasons I feel this way- gives me hope. Synapses and neurotransmitters; firing wrongly, infrequently or too much. Trauma, family history and genetics. No matter how mental illness rears its ugly head, there are reasons, it is not just you. You are worthy. You deserve effort.
In honor of World Mental Health Day…
Today’s song is Taylor Switft’s - Peace
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