the daily taryn #14 - some things i don't love about myself

So. Let’s start with a picture that is completely unrelated to what I’m about to talk about, because you asked for more pictures.

I really do. If you know me well, I am always joking about how thankful everyone must feel to know me. If I had a brand, it would be part of my brand to love myself unapologetically. Not only do I find this funny, I find it really healthy to know, understand, and celebrate yourself. I know that I’m kind, funny, athletic, smart, creative, confusingly good at pointless games, a nice daughter/friend/sibling, a good public speaker, and solid communicator. I love those things about myself. They make me me. They are the things I put out into the world by curating the things I post, the stories I tell, the experiences I share. I know this because of your responses — you see a side of me that, while true, is not the whole truth.

There are things about me that are, plainly said, bad. There are things I deeply dislike about myself. Things I’d like to change. Qualities I wish I could ditch. Habits that hurt me and hurt other people. Beliefs that give me nightmares.

I’m going to share a few of those below in an attempt to remind you that a person is not just what they post, write about, or portray. Here are 4 things I really don’t like about myself.

I think every single one of my exes has called me selfish to my face, and probably to many more faces after. I generally put other people before myself, but there are things that I am incredibly, wrongly selfish about. 

Making plans for a Saturday? It’s my way or the highway. 

Where I’m moving? I will go wherever I want to go with little to no regard about how that might mess with other people’s day-to-day. I have made exes feel bad for making ME feel bad for wanting to move, then I’ve made them feel bad for not wanting to move closer to me. I create long distance relationships only to say that I don’t do them, but I won’t be the one to fix them.

What we’re watching on TV? There’s a long list of things I won’t watch. I’ll literally remove myself from the room because of it. How bratty is that?

Energy/vibe? I want everyone to be on my level, always. If I’m feeling cozy, you need to be cozy. If I want to get drinks, you should want to get drinks. If I want a fancy dinner, you should want a fancy dinner. If you want space to read but I want to play games, you should want to play games. 

I don’t like that I’m selfish. 

Gosh, I’m so jealous. If people are succeeding in a way I want to succeed, I’m jealous. If girls are prettier, thinner, smarter, funnier, I’m jealous. If my gf/bf seems to be enjoying someone else’s company too much, I’m jealous. I will literally get nightmares about it that carry through to the next day and actually, truly haunt me. My jealousy plants seeds in my head while I’m asleep. Fuck, this one hurts to type. I hate that I am this way. Jealousy is gross. It’s mean and wrong and petty. I really, really hate this about myself. 

I don’t like that I’m jealous.

Anxiety is my first, middle, and last name — that’s right, I’m Anxiety Anxiety Anxiety. I’ve written about this before, and I’ll pull from this post to explain it a bit more: 

I have had anxiety my whole life. I mean, ANXIETY. I’m not talking about the “oh no I might miss my train” or “ugh, I hope they’re okay.”

No, it is not the anxiety that likely you and your leveled brain may experience, and it certainly doesn’t go away when you say “just relax” or “what’s there to be worried about?”

Nope, but I wish it was. Instead, it is debilitating. It’s more panic attacks than I can count. It’s an ambulance called to my elementary school. It’s “you have an anxiety disorder” and pill after different pill and new pill and bigger pill and smaller pill, all to try to help. It’s sleepless nights and chest pains that last weeks. it’s booking a conference room at work to meditate. It’s starting over with new therapists when the one you loved moves, or you do. It’s being on a first name basis with the walk-in campus doctors because you go so much, worried about this cough or that tingle or this pressure. It’s not wanting to check the news because everything is terrifying, but needing to check the news to prepare yourself. It’s obsessively checking your families flight on apps you’ve downloaded just to make sure their plane is cruising like it should be.

This anxiety ruins things for me and unfortunately, ruins things for other people, especially my loved ones. I will put a damper on anything if I’m worried enough about it. It’s exhausting, it’s real, and for the most part, it’s invisible.

I don’t like that I’m anxious.

I actually think this is both good and bad. Good, because you should care what people think about you — it’s nice to be nice and have people know you’re nice. It’s good to be good and have people know you’re good. It’s good to want to be invited back to the party/office/house. 

This desire to be liked can also be bad. It makes me do things I wouldn’t normally do, or stops me from trying things I want to try. What if I fail trying to be a video creator, a writer, an MC, a comedian? Will people still like me? Will they think I’m stupid and a fraud and a wannabe? I want people to think I’m cool and confident and capable of anything, so I can’t do anything that could end in failure because it would shatter that image. 

That is so fucking stupid. If my friend or child felt this way, I would tell them how stupid it is to NOT do things you want to do, so long as they’re good. I would sign them up for the class or drive them to the tournament or force them out of their fear and need for approval. And yet, I don’t take my own advice. 

I don’t like that I’m anxious.

I hate when people say, “that’s just the way I am.” I don’t believe that. Sure, there are things that will always be a part of me, like my anxiety. That is clinically diagnosed, apparent in my hormones, and has been my sidekick since I was a child. That will never go away, although I can continue to learn to manage it better. 

Most of those other qualities, though, are things I can and will work to improve until the day I die. I’m glad there are things about me that are not good. I’m glad that even on my best day, I have need to get better.

That’s all! Happy Thursday. 

See you tomorrow, 

Taryn