Hii!
Every week, I’ll share personal essays from fellow Sadgirls in our community. For now, let’s call it…Sadgirl Submissions! This allows us to share our experiences with each other and normalize emotional expression. This week’s essay is from Ceonna, who says: “Hello, my name is Ceonna M., and I am a Philly-based creative. I am in the middle of redefining myself. You can find me on Instagram.”
If you’d like your essay considered, check out this post.
I’m going to my job, coming back to my house, and talking to my people, but I am not truly there.
Lately, I’ve been finding myself struggling with navigating rest and assertiveness.
I’m exhausted with work, finances and human relationships. For the most part, I’m not present in my own life. I mean, I’m going to my job, coming back to my house, and talking to my people, but I am not truly there.
I am on autopilot.
And when I’m off, I feel the chest-crushing pressure of my tiredness. This is not all there is to life. There’s more, and it’s coming, I tell myself anytime I feel overwhelmed—which at this point is constant.
Of course, I’m using the ever-consistent advice of self-care. Truly, forty-hour work weeks, financial hardships, and childhood trauma can be healed with a face mask and a new manicure. The power of pretty has been rejuvenating in the past, but at the age of twenty-five, it has lost its strength (admittedly, a cute outfit and having my hair done, does do something a lil’ some some).
Still, I understand that rest is pertinent to my well-being, so I do something adjacent to relaxation. Which is really code for doom scroll and think about what I have to do later.
I need to buy skin care products
Schedule a doctor appointment
Clean my boots
Go to the dry cleaners
How much will that cost?
How is my credit score?
Where will I be in 6 mon
My stomach squeezes and contracts, and my head begins to hurt. I force myself to either turn my phone off and throw it under my bed or to start a frenzied task-completion spree. Neither action makes me feel better or fixes the cause of my anxiety, but I do them anyway.
Oftentimes, it’s the only thing that I can do.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Read my surreal novel: How to Be a Better Adult
Read my nerdy self-help book!: The Magical Girl’s Guide to Life
Follow me on Instagram!: @Jacqueaye
I saw this just as I’m journaling about how numb and paralyzed I am to everything. Disinterested in all the things that once gave me joy, including people, places, and things. Wondering even if I had all things I ever wanted, if I would still be happy.
I’m here with you. Hoping to come off autopilot soon enough.
Are we the same person!? Cus I’ve been feeling the exact same way but like..for years. This magical girl is losing her magic. 🥲