Hello, 2022

My friend and I were talking. She told me she thought she might be on the spectrum; I said, word. I'm glad she knew I am a safe person to tell. We talked a little bit about our families, and intuition. I told her about some of my recent worries. Am I doing enough? Am I changing enough?

That’s not what we talked about necessarily, but those are the underlying questions I’ve been asking in recent months.

I am still processing the flip of the calendar year, so I'm a few days late. In 2021, I started acting like a writer. Speaking and acting I knew what I wanted to say, and like I knew what was best for me. Halfway through the summer, I made a big life change that I didn’t picture making. In 2021, I learned to see when I was wrong. My mistake was thinking I would never be wrong again; I tried to make decisions that would keep it from happening again. This is one thing I'm happy to let go of. I think it's more useful to consider what I'd like to continue from last year. Since the start of covid, I have known that this was going to be a long-term life change for all of us. I am not interested in acting like 2020 or 2021 were anomaly years, but in learning how to continue sustainably in these conditions.

I logged on and checked my wallet for the first time in a year and I have made some money from this. So, I must be a writer. I guess to do something, you just have to do it. And then act like you do it. And tell yourself that you do it. Maybe that's just my imposter syndrome, which is just a medical used way of saying I feel like I’m lying about everything I do. Writing, school, jobs, posting, music.

I do wonder why I feel that I have to post my writing to feel like a writer, or be motivated to actually sit and write something. Perhaps it's the idea that someone may relate to what I have to say, which may be my way of feeling like I'm contributing something to the world. Maybe I like knowing that it's all in one place and that it's organized chronologically, rather than all over the place in countless journals and random notebooks. My notebooks for school are interspersed with journal entries. I often find it difficult to go back and read what I write on pen and paper. It is easier to type my thoughts, and I generally like the finished product better when I do. Maybe I like posting here because when I go back and read it, it’s easier to separate it from myself than my own handwriting.

I am still struggling with sticking with my decisions. I have learned to admitt to myself when I am wrong, or that choices I've made no longer align with my needs. But when it comes time to actually make a decision, I find myself wanting to ask people that I think know me and see me and understand me what I should do. Naturally, that is not the way to go.

In 2022, I am already remembering what it feels like to know what I need. Feeling excitement for what is to come, but remembering that perseverance requires patience. Remembering that I don't have to feel "good" all the time in order to be doing what's right and best for me. And that just doing something is enough, that recognition doesn’t make it so.