Stop Trying so Hard

I’ve been living a little on the edge this summer.

Staying up late, saying yes to every opportunity, sliding my number on cocktail napkin to a much younger man and getting asked if I want to have some early morning dessert…

In the last few years, I’ve been so disciplined, such a good girl.

Lugging my laptop to coffee shops to justify how hard I am trying!

But lately, as evidenced by my latest post, I haven’t been such a good girl lately.

I had time to do exactly half my meditation on Sunday, only to be whisked to the FIFA stadium, my fourth of the match I’ve attended irl.

Details on how I manifested this 👀

I’ve stayed up until 2am more times in the last few weeks than in the last few years.

I’ve all but stopped forcing myself to post content, only posting when I really have something to say, or resharing stories where I’m genuinely having fun, and somehow in the last week alone, I got invited to read at another writers salon in Boston (the last one expanded my capacity for joy) AND booked not one but 3 irl closet cleanouts through Hanger Hangups.

What’s the most perplexing is this sneaky secret fear that now that things are good, and the habits that allowed things to get good have started slipping… are things going to sneak up and get bad again?

Flashbacks of overthinking $3 subway rides and exclusively eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for days in a row doesn’t necessarily scare me, but I remember the reality.. and the question I know better than to ask but actually want to know, is…

Why does it get to be good now?

I saw this as I was asking for a sign as to whether or not I should sign up for a money program.. which I did in January, and I just now hit my monthly revenue goal from that program.

I wish my brain could just let the trauma go, accepting the storm as over, and relaxing into the heat of an easier season, where things work out and money flows in the way I want it to, where instead of begging to stay, I appreciate every moment I have, and my god, it just keep getting better and better.

I honor the work it’s taken to get back here, and make the absolute most of every chance I’ve been given.

Is it good now because of the lessons I learned from when it was bad?

I walked past my old building again, and this time he did look good. The scaffolding was gone, and my favorite tree had grown in for summer. I tried to catch a glimpse in my old window, but it was no longer mine to perceive.

That chapter is closed, and I deeply prefer this one, where I’m writing an excerpt on the subway in my notes app because it’s flowing instead of forcing myself to work because I feel scared.

“Well you know it always works out for us” my friend leans over and whispers to me.

Yes, yes it does.

xoxo,

Allison