It’s the first letter of my “Lola’s Letters” series, and I’m starting with a letter to myself, because I don’t have the balls to write an open letter to anyone BUT myself right now, which is hilarious. Hilarious because that’s the topic of the letter, my friends: being full of potential, but being paralyzed by fear. Off to a good start, eh? Let’s go.
I know you’re in there.
PAUSE: Excuse me, eyes? I am writing here! May I please get through the first paragraph sans tears? K, thanks. PLAY.
I know you’ve been been meaning to sit down and lay out what’s important to you. I know you’ve been busy with your adorable-but-sometimes-crazy baby, darling-but-sometimes annoying hubby, and new-but-sometimes-overwhelming house. I know you’ve been navigating your way through some anxiety and depression, which is a real treat – I know!
I know that you’ve made some lists lately, to help your brain feel a little bit organized. I know you’ve cut out sodas (RIP Dr Pepper), vowed to spend less time watching those addicting Tasty videos on Facebook, and made an effort to find a sense of accomplishment by doing “just one more thing” than you feel like doing.
I think you’re a great mom who shouldn’t be so hard on yourself for still having that baby pouch on your tummy from your almost-2-year-old “baby.” I saw the way you organized the shit outta those bills the other night, and how you still managed to find some time to be creative in your space. I love the way you listened, really listened, to your podcasts last week, and even journaled the inspiring parts. I know that you actually love your job and strive to be a professional woman that your daughter would be proud of. I see you reading and researching so that you can continue your education, even though you’ve graduated. Let’s not forget about your ability to throw together a dinner for your family, even when you know you’d be cool with eating pizza, like, every day for the rest of your life.
I also know you’re holding back. I know that you bought those cute little blog planners, to help you get organized and plan and write the way you want to write. I know that they sit on your bookshelf, because you’re afraid to fill them with shitty content, because how could anyone love what you write? I know you stare at your to-do list and decide it would be easier to watch YouTube than put your foot out the door and risk failing. I admire your sentiment, that you’d rather do something well or not at all, except that you don’t do it at all, and we’re all missing out.
I know you look at other people’s blogs, social media accounts, and plans, and feel like you’re never gonna get there. And I can promise you that you won’t if you stay where you are. I know you heard Tina Fey in Bossypants talk about those cute Greek kids, Christo and Maria, thinking their world was falling apart while their parents were out on a date, and you realized that some days you’re Christo the Worrier, and some days you’re Maria the Crier. But on both occasions, you’re really going to be okay. I know you heard Megan Tan talk about her fear of launching Millennial, BUT SHE DID IT ANYWAY, and you admired her for it.
So do it, you silly goose. Maybe it won’t be perfect. Scratch that, it totally won’t be perfect. But remember how good it feels to get those straggling dishes from the sink to the dishwasher, or the clothes switched from the washer to the dryer, and remember you’re more than that. Those things are awesome, and you should keep doing them and being proud of them, but I hope you keep going. You deserve to be proud, and feel good about what you do, whatever that may be.
I hope you know you’re smart, talented, and capable. I hope that when you hear that voice say “you’re not good enough,” that you find it in your heart to tell it to fuck off, because that’s not even true.
I know you’re in there. Head up, chin up, do your thang. You won’t regret it.
I love you,