I recently read something that resonated with my soul. It said, in part, that a part of being an adult is learning to be OK with the decisions you’ve made and owning those decisions whether the outcome was good or bad.
One of the biggest struggles for adults, as I’m sure many other young adults face this same obstacle, is learning to be OK with the decisions we make and accepting who we are as individuals.
I second guess everything I do, everything I say, every action I take. Because I have made choices that have not always turned out the way I envisioned.
I know, all too well, what disappointment feels like. What guilt and shame and despair feel like.
The crushing weight you feel when all your preconceived notions and dreams don’t go as planned.
So, I scare myself into thinking it won’t turn out well anyway and start relying very heavily on other people to make the decision for me—for other people to choose my happiness. Then it won’t be my fault if it all goes to heck. I will have someone else to blame.
As much as I fancy myself a dreamer, over the years, I have become more of a realist, some might even say pessimist. I no longer eagerly anticipate my future with wide eyes and wagging puppy dog tail. I can’t always see the good in the decisions I make. Because I know. I know that on the other side, the grass is not always greener.
You see, I have insecurities and doubts and fears. Which lead me to this morphed thinking that I’m not good enough. I’m not smart enough. I’m not pretty enough. I’m not brave enough. I am not enough.
I try, very hard in fact, to be better. To do better. To improve my thinking and evolve as a person.
But it is a very thin line between wanting to improve ourselves for the better and obsessing over who we are NOT.
I’ve never been a good speaker. I am not very witty, and I tell corny jokes (although I find myself hysterical). I am too demanding at times and emotional and I struggle with being “too nice” or ” a church mouse” as I’ve been told. I don’t want the world to walk all over me so I try to be assertive without being aggressive. I try to be whimsical without being too ditzy. I try to talk in a way that my words match my emotions but end up falling short. And it all just feels like . . . too much.
It’s too much to try to be human. To not be afraid of failure. Not be afraid of what others think of you. To not be afraid of what you think of yourself.
I’m not going to lie, it is not easy for me to look in the mirror and like what I see. To always like the person I’ve become. And it is too easy for me to start reverting back to the negative narrative I placed on myself.
It has taken me a long time to get to the acceptance part of my story.
That is where I am right now, or at the very least fighting to remain in that state of mind. Accepting who I am and LIVING in me. Being OK with me. Loving me.
Of course, I’m going to continue to grow and learn and explore, and as I get older, my experiences will make me a stronger, wiser person. But I no longer want to revel in the I’m not the category. I want to thrive in the I am.
I am strong. I am a good mom. I am a good friend. I am a hard worker. I am industrious. I am me. And I am OK with who I am.
And I will accept every decision I have made or will ever make. I will accept who I am and not let anyone, including myself, belittle the person who made me, me.
Previously published on the author’s blog