The little things

We think we have to do so much in order to be proud of who we are.
I have certainly lived that way for the longest time. Until it burnt me out.
Me, the woman who once upon a time had a thousand things to do per day, and a thousand activities and accomplishments to show for herself, was suddenly not able to get out of bed for the entire day, and crying had become the main activity. In those days, the shame of not being productive was eating me up, and occupying all my thoughts, preventing me from doing the very things I was expecting myself to do. Was it because of how I was raised, was it a collective fear coming online very strongly, was it a trauma from a very young age suddenly resurfacing? I believe it was a combination of all three. In any case, clearly a strongly engrained belief that “I’m not good enough as I am” had been making me do all sorts of things to remedy that.
My exhausted body was ready to end this cycle. I was ready to stop those tears.