A forgiveness meditation

I forgive myself.

I forgive myself for being unconscious most of my life.
I forgive myself for denying my truth for so long that when I finally acknowledged and trusted it, I hurt someone I truly cared for.
I forgive myself for continuing to wonder how things will turn out.
I forgive myself for the times I don't take better care of myself, or the times I don't say nice things to myself about the shape and feel of my body, or the level of my intelligence, significance, desirableness or intrigue.
I forgive myself for not making more of an effort to stay close to my family.
I forgive myself for the times I could have been a better friend, or more considerate of the feelings of those I care about.
I forgive myself for leaving those I loved deeply, and I forgive myself for still missing them.

I forgive myself for not putting myself first for so many years.
I forgive myself for not being kinder, more compassionate and generous.
I forgive myself for the all times I indulge in negative self-talk, and for when I don't recognize my own beauty.
I forgive myself for not telling the people I love that I love them every day.
I forgive myself for the guilt I feel about not working harder in school.
I forgive myself for making assumptions and not seeing the best in others.
I forgive myself for watching too much Netflix.
I forgive myself for not cleaning my room until I absolutely cannot walk through without tripping over piles of laundry, or whatever other bits of my life that have taken a back seat to the current prime directive.

I forgive myself for holding on to the past, and I forgive myself for having regrets.
I forgive myself for worrying about and--at the same time--idealizing the future.
I forgive myself for deriving self-worth from external validation.
I forgive myself for not knowing to listen to my body when it was crumbling before my eyes.
I forgive myself for not loving myself.
I forgive myself for questioning my own intuition, and I forgive myself for the hurt I've caused in the process of learning to follow my own heart.

I forgive myself.

This is how I know to move forward.
In forgiving there is letting go.
But I know it is not so easy.
So I forgive myself for not being able to let go right away.
Each time I do, I get a little lighter.

I'm forgiven.

25 Days of Gratitude

December is upon us and many are already counting down the days until Christmas. This season is a time of love for me, of warmth, of family (biologic or otherwise), of joy, and of gratitude. It's nice to indulge in the festivities of the season, but something is pulling me in the direction of using this time to establish better habits that will carry me through the holidays and beyond into the next year.

The new moon earlier this week brought up a lot of stuff for me. I have been feeling increasingly out-of-sorts, sideways, cattywampus--as they say--the past few weeks. I suspect this is the result of a constellation of things: stress, inconsistent sleep, less consumption of water, more consumption of sugar, the change to colder weather, less daylight, the impending conclusion of the academic semester, etc. etc. etc. All in all, it's fascinating to me how these things work together to negatively impact my mood and general outlook on myself and my surroundings.

In an effort to find my way back to myself, I've decided to do a few things. First, I am removing added sugar and artificial sweeteners from my diet (a la Whole30) again. I hesitate to say that I am doing an "official" Whole30 during the month of December because that would be rather ambitious. I am not eliminating the possibility, however. To the extent that is within my control, I will be living the Whole30 lifestyle for as much of December as possible. I actually started two days ago (oops!), so technically this is Day 3 and I can already say, the worst of the sugar withdrawal is pretty much over. This is one of the benefits of living a food freedom that is relatively close to the Whole30 to begin with (meaning, I basically eat grain-free, dairy-free, legume-free, and alcohol-free already). My goals for this are to find that sweet spot of feeling good in my own skin, not having an emotional or psychological response to eating (or not eating) certain foods, and to get better sleep. I already have plans in the works on how to deal with the onslaught of holiday indulgences that will inevitably come my way--the main one being that I look forward to offering to do the majority of cooking for my family so that I can control the ingredients that go in and share so many of the delicious, Whole30-approved recipes that I've come to love over the past year and a half. I'll still bake ALL the cookies and pies for them, but I have no qualms about not partaking in them when the time comes.

Secondly, I will be conducting a different kind of elimination diet. Not of food, but of thoughts. My intention is to go the entire month of December without complaining, and instead, finding the positive in the moment. There are so many lovely, pleasant things about the holidays like the lights, and the music and fireplaces, and the movies, and the snow! But there is also travel (and traffic), shopping (and financial insufficiencies), family (and family, if you know what I mean). In addition to all that, there are all the exams I have coming up, the uncertainties about what's next and the pressure to have all of it already planned.

This is going to be a challenge. It already is. Today I noticed myself getting caught up in the negativity that surrounds me so easily. In order to mitigate that, I have to slow down, notice what's going on, and make a very conscious choice about what I want to contribute to the conversation. I'm predicting that the old adage "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" is going to be incredibly applicable this month. Eventually I hope to be able to progress from simply NOT saying something negative to actually making the effort to find something positive.

This all goes along with the gratitude practice I've been cultivating the last couple months. I have made a concerted effort to keep a gratitude journal and write down one thing at the end of each day that I am grateful for. I find this practice to be the most helpful on the particularly difficult days. On the good days, it can be hard to choose just one thing to write down. But on the days that--let's face it--pretty much sucked, it forces me to go back, think through everything I did that day and find something good. Anything good. The littlest thing. Something about that time of reflection, even if the struggle to find something positive carried its own discouragement, made it easier the next time. I've started to move toward forgetting to write in my gratitude journal at night because I'm living more grateful in the moment. Noticing things as they happen and appreciating them, letting them go, and moving forward. This has always been the goal and I think that making a conscious intention to refrain from complaining will aid in my pursuit of a gratitude-filled life.

I'm saying all this because I want my thoughts, intentions and goals to be out there--outside of me--in the universe. Not just bouncing around in my head. They appear more real that way. There are reminders that can help me. There are people that can hold me accountable.

This holiday seasons feels new and different to me because of the many changes I have made in my personal life over the past seven months, and these small lifestyle changes I'm making now--these new habits I'm establishing--are really going to enrich that experience. I hope the holidays find you warm, cozy, surrounded by those you love, with gratitude in your heart. Every day.

Breaking Up With "Should"

This post was originally shared on the Cornell Vet Wellness blog, Staying Positive.

The longest, most committed relationship I’ve ever been in was my co-dependency with the word “should”. “Should” and I used to do everything together. She was always on my mind, helping me with every little decision I made throughout the day–from what I wore to what I ate, whether or not I should smile or say hello to the people I saw, whether I should study or watch Netflix, what time I should go to bed…

Or rather, she would “help” me.

It took me 27 years to realize that “Should” was really just Anxiety masquerading as my friend.

There’s a “Should” out there for everyone, although some of them are better than others. There are the “Shoulds” that keep people from exposing themselves in public, harming others, or letting selfishness and greed get the best of them. Those are usually necessary–they help enhance our lives and the lives of those around us. Those “Shoulds” are keepers. I’m not talking about those “Shoulds”.

My “Should” and I had a different kind of relationship. She was there when I woke up. She was there when I went to bed. Sometimes she was even in my dreams, re-hashing every “stupid” thing I’d said or done in the past. She was never NOT there. A day that included doing literally nothing but lounging around all day would be physically and mentally exhausting because she was there to play devil’s advocate for every thought that popped into my head.

You feel crappy, you should stay in bed.

You shouldn’t stay in bed, that’s lazy and irresponsible! Get your butt up!

You should braid your hair.

You haven’t washed your hair in a week! If you braid your hair again, everyone will think you didn’t shower.

You should have bacon for breakfast.

Bacon again?! Don’t you know that pork is bad for you?

Welcome to the first hour of every day. I’m exhausted just writing that.

But ignorance is bliss, as they say. So until I was aware of what was happening, this was just the way it was, and it didn’t occur to me that my life could be any different–because I didn’t know any different. In hindsight, I can see that it was a toxic relationship. The more influential I allowed “Should” to be in my life–fueling it by giving it my time and energy–the more I unconsciously needed “Should” in my life. If “Should” were to leave me one day, who would tell me what do? How would I know the smartest choice, the best answer, the optimal option? Who would decide who I was supposed to be?

(Watch out–”Should” and “Supposed To” are, like, super close buddies.)

Who would decide, though?

Me.

Actually me. Not Me+Anxiety. Just me. But who am I without “Should”? We had been together for so long, I’d never had the opportunity to find out before. It’s scary not knowing who you are underneath all of that noise of questioning every little thing.

But believe me, YOU are in there somewhere.

That’s the journey I’m on now. Cultivating me. It’s fun to decide for yourself. Terrifying too, but mostly fun. It was extremely difficult to break up with “Should”, and it continues to be difficult. There are still days I find myself missing “Should” and many nights I break down and call “Should”, even though I know differently now.

I’m not here to tell you how to manage your own relationships with the words in your head. You’re all adults. I can only share my own experience. It was important and necessary for me to end the toxic relationship I was in with “Should”. However, it’s also important to highlight that for me, not all the ties have been cut. While I’m no longer co-dependent on “Should”, she is still in my life (even though I’d prefer she wasn’t), and I continue to find ways to deal with that.

The most important difference is now I am aware of her influence and can choose to modulate how much I let her in. This takes work–hard work–but slowly and surely I am realizing I am in control. I control the thoughts that come in and then I let them go. Those thoughts aren’t me and they don’t define me.

If you find yourself consulting “Should” for every little thing throughout the day and night, I invite you to take a step back and assess what you’re really getting out of that relationship. Sometimes it may seem easier to stay in a bad relationship than confront and overcome the fear and work it takes to set out on your own and cultivate who you are. This ease is only short term. Only you can decide what’s best for you. I only hope that it’s YOU deciding, and not You+”Should”.

Mountain Dreaming

Sometimes Time Hop splits my heart wide open. 

I ache for the mountains. 

Always the mountains.

THE INVITATION
by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for, and if you
dare to dream of meeting your heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love,
for your dreams,
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life's betrayals
or have become shriveled and closed from fear of future pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain,
mine or your own, 
without moving to hide it,
or fade it,
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy,
mine or your own,
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us to be careful,
to be realistic,
to remember
the limitations of being human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
if you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul;
if you can be faithless and therefore
trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see beauty even when it's not pretty,
every day,
and if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure,
yours or mine,
and still stand on the
edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon, "yes!"

It doesn't interest me who you know, or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. 
I want to know what sustains you,
from the inside,
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone
with yourself and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

Seeking Simplicity: A Year in Review

Twelve months ago, my life was anything but simple. Primarily, I was a first-year veterinary student living alone in a new town. If school wasn’t demanding enough, I was also weightlifting three or four times a week, running three or four times a week, and trying to complete fresh meat training for a local roller derby league. Between school and my extracurricular activities, I was doing ALL THE THINGS. So in hindsight, it comes as no surprise that in February, my body gave out. It started as soreness in my low back that quickly escalated to debilitating pain. When I went to urgent care on a Sunday, they took radiographs but saw nothing. They sent me home with muscle relaxers and pain meds to help me sleep. It wasn’t until I was able to see a doctor of osteopathic medicine at the student health center later that week that I started to understand what was going on. It appeared that the tension from chronic stress and anxiety had accumulated over time in the muscles of my low back (probably aggravated by sitting with poor posture for long hours in lectures and at my desk studying) and it had reached a breaking point. The small muscles stabilizing my spine and pelvis had spasmed and pulled my sacro-iliac joint out of alignment. This was the intense pain I was feeling. The D.O. was able to adjust me so that proper alignment was restored, which reduced my pain significantly, but soreness from the muscle strain remained. I underwent physical therapy for several weeks following the spasm in order to regain mobility in my spine and to learn how to properly care for my back in the future, should pain become an issue again.

The pain gradually lessened because I became hyper aware of my posture and form in every movement I made. Even though none of the physical activities I had been partaking in directly instigated the spasm in my back, vigorous physical activity was the first thing to go (this was an eye opener in two ways--it caused me to find and try new things I could do and it also caused me to re-evaluate my relationship to exercise and my body). My movement consisted of long walks (which I really started to enjoy) and core-strengthening exercises I learned in physical therapy that paved the way for a regular yoga practice that helped not only strengthen my body and protect it from further injury, but also train my mind to calm down and be present. I also experimented with the way I was fueling myself and adjusted my nutrition in order to determine what was serving me and what wasn’t.

While my back spasm caused me to slow down and assess my overall health, it was also an inciting event that exposed a lot of other underlying health problems of which I was previously unaware because my body and mind were compensating. I made it through the spring semester and thought that surely over the summer I would be able to continue on the road to recovery. Unfortunately, the summer research job I had lined up turned out to be less than fulfilling and unexpectedly draining in combination with the stress of moving into a place that had more problems than seemed reasonable for a brand-new duplex. When the end of the summer rolled around, I had taken no time for myself to relax and was already dreading the notorious Block IV course looming ahead of me in the fall. The one shining spot in the summer was that my two best friends finally joined me in Ithaca, so I was no longer alone.

After getting back to school and feeling my health deteriorate once again (even in light of my clean eating and reduced exercise burden), I started to ask questions about my health. Why was I so exhausted all the time? Why couldn’t I get restful sleep? Why did I have daily headaches? Why couldn’t I focus in class? Why was my back pain coming back? Why did I get dizzy so often? These were questions that I soon learned couldn’t be answered by conventional doctors (but not until after I ran lot of tests that my health insurance ended up not covering). All my extra money spent on medical bills left me no leeway to seek help from naturopathic or integrative medical doctors, perhaps the only people able to treat my condition. I was resolved to be my own doctor. I did a lot of research and read a lot of literature and concluded that my issue was severe adrenal fatigue (a.k.a. hypoadrenia, hypothalamus-pituitary-adrenal axis dysregulation). Basically, long term chronic stress had depleted my adrenal glands of their ability to produce cortisol. Too much cortisol is usually a sign of being over-stressed initially, but if that is prolonged, eventually the cortisol levels drop and the normal peaks and troughs of cortisol that follow a circadian rhythm can’t be maintained. I won’t go too much more into it but, suffice it to say, this explained the majority of my symptoms. Luckily for me, the treatment is a lot of the things I was already working on doing--avoiding things that exacerbate the problem like caffeine and alcohol, eating the right things to replenish depleted micronutrients, prioritizing sleep, and making lifestyle changes that promote relaxation (like meditating). Unfortunately, this is not something that you take a pill for and you’re all better, and it’s exponentially more difficult to recover from when the primary stressor (in my case, vet school) is not removed. I would not be surprised if I am still rehabilitating my adrenal glands when I graduate. But for now this will have to be enough until I can afford to work one-on-one with a naturopathic or functional medicine doctor.

The silver lining of all this back pain and fatigue stuff is that it illuminated my need to seek professional help with my stress and anxiety. I am very lucky to have access to relatively extensive counseling services through my school. I have been seeing a counselor weekly since March (except for the summer time--but that’s another stress-inducing money-sucking fiasco of a story). Therapy has been transformative for me and I really feel I am acquiring the tools that will carry me through life better able to manage all the things that are thrown at me. I accept that the stress of school isn’t going away, and I doubt I will ever suddenly wake up one day a non-anxious person, but I understand now that I don’t have to be a slave to it, and my ability to function under the burden of this stress continues to evolve.

My experience over the last year with my own health has also begun to shape my professional goals as a veterinarian. There have been times since I started vet school that I thought I wanted to work with farm animals, large animals, birds, wildlife, etc, etc, etc. It was usually something different depending on whatever course I was taking at the time and never something that felt particularly compelling. But having experienced the physically and emotionally debilitating manifestations of chronic stress and unchecked anxiety, and having to learn how to balance my lifestyle and manage the stress has indirectly demystified my path. Slowly, I have realized that advocating for my own wellness is foundational and imperative for my success in any endeavor, and I am increasingly appalled that basic care for oneself is not emphasized more amongst my colleagues. I've become very interested in the practice of maintaining balance in the blatantly unbalanced high stress environment that is vet school. I see in my peers a need for an advocate for wellness within the vet student community, as well as students and practicing clinicians of all medical disciplines. I feel strongly that something is not right when those charged with the responsibility to care for the health of others often compromise their own health in order to do so.

So, I am in the midst of designing my own path here, to learn about and promote wellness in the healthcare professions. I've experienced first hand what stress, anxiety, burnout, fatigue and depression can do and I want to be a resource for people like me to find support in the future (support that I, for the most part, haven't had--within the vet school at least). There are a few pieces of this puzzle that are just beginning to come together. The biggest piece being that I am in the process of applying to the DVM/MPH dual degree program so that--with only one extra year--I will graduate ready to serve in the public health sector. My more long term goals include completing a Masters of Social Work after I graduate so that if I so choose, I can become a licensed clinical social worker and provide counseling to other vet students or medical professionals. You may think none of this sounds very veterinarian-y. I think about that too sometimes. The only thing I can say right now is that there is a need--a need for someone to advocate for those over-worked and exhausted residents suffering from compassion fatigue. A need to raise awareness about the suicide issue in the veterinary community instead of sweeping it under the rug. I believe animals are part of this equation too! Animal-assisted therapy is a huge field that I can’t wait to delve into. The more I think about the directions I could go, the more excited I am about connecting all the dots between my skills, interests, and passions.

The most immediate step I am taking to establish my own balance and cultivate more skills to promote wellness for others is to attend a yoga teacher training in 2016. Teaching yoga has always been sitting in the back of my mind as something I would want to do if whatever I was currently doing didn’t work out. But I was inspired to do it now--in this transformative year of my life--when a current 3rd year vet student started leading classes during lunch one day a week, free to students. I already had a personal daily yoga practice myself (to maintain my spinal health and manage anxiety) but this resource opened my eyes to the possibility, feasibility, and receptivity amongst my peers, as well as my potential ability to fulfill the need they were crying out for. Through yoga and mutual struggles in school, I have become dear friends with the student who teaches now and she introduced me to her home studio in Trumansburg, Lakshmi Living Arts, that is also the site of an Anusara yoga teacher training. I’ve already spoken to the lovely women who run it and they’ve agreed to let me do a work-trade for half the cost of the training. It is divided into two 3-week sections which conveniently coincide with my academic breaks. The first is in January and the second is in May/June. Even though many of my classmates will be spending their semester breaks doing things that are more "relevant" to veterinary medicine, I am so excited to be taking this time as a kind of spiritual retreat to study yoga, learn about myself, and clear my mind to make it ready for what might come next.

I’ve ruminated long and hard on this opportunity, and for me, the pros seriously outweigh the cons. I truly believe that spending the time to deepen my yoga practice in this way will have profound effects on my own well-being, making me more equipped to survive two more years of vet school stress and beyond. It also fits perfectly with the new sense of direction I feel in pursuit of a career as an advocate for wellness. The response to my friend’s class for students this year has been overwhelming and some are already asking what will happen next year when she will be in clinics and unable to teach. I get butterflies of excitement in my stomach when she mentions that I’ll be taking over. My heart aches for those I see around me suffering in a way I’ve suffered and knowing they have not yet found balance. There are times when I want to call out in the middle of the crowded, quiet library with students hunched over books and computers, guzzling coffee, “It doesn’t have to be like this!” But alas, I empathize with those students running on fumes, barely keeping their heads above water--because I’ve been there, I am there, alongside them. And while I would never wish the physical health problems I experienced and am still recovering from on anyone as a motivator to change their lifestyle, I also know everyone has to come to the realization in their own way that they can’t do it all, and they can’t do it alone. Until then I will ready myself to be there when they do, to offer an open ear, support, and guidance, to be someone I wish I would’ve had when I was going through the same things.

All in all, comparing where I am now to where I was twelve months ago is an exercise in futility. It’s not simple. Will it ever be? It’s not as if that was normal, then I was broken, and now I’m back to “normal”. I will never be back to that normal, especially since that normal resulted in me being broken. But not really broken. More aware. I am constantly reminding myself that I am not a problem that needs fixing. I am more a collection of quirks and characteristics, and it’s my responsibility to separate the things that honor my true self and illuminate it from the things that hinder and dampen it. For now, that means letting a lot of things go and trying to sit peacefully with myself and everything that I am at this moment--not what I used to be, not what I wish I was--with no judgment and no expectations. The past year has brought with it many struggles but also many lessons. What will 2016 bring?

May my thoughts, words, and actions contribute in some way to the happiness and freedom of all beings, without exception.

#thestruggleisreal

This is a tough-love reminder to myself and to the greater social media community that life is not a highlight reel.

I admit I am guilty of subscribing to the filtered, curated stream of photographic consciousness posted to Instagram most of the time. Although, sometimes I'm blessed to be able to find those beautiful moments even when the outlook is bleaker than it appears on the internet. However, I very rarely post the bloopers, the blunders, the weak spots, or the vulnerabilities because I am--like so many other humans--reluctantly all-too-concerned with how I am perceived by my friends, family, and even strangers-at-large.

Today I take a break from all that filtering to say--whole-heartedly, and with fervor--that the struggle is real.

I recently moved with my boyfriend and our giant dog into a brand-new-fresh-off-the-presses apartment (it wasn't actually even completed totally when we started moving our stuff in). I was coming from a studio across town, but he was coming all the way from the Adirondacks. I also recently discovered that it is nearly impossible to unpack and get settled whilst working full-time. And forget about having time to exercise regularly or prepare whole, healthy meals and keep up any semblance of having my ish together (because I definitely don't).

Basically the last two weeks or so have been an exercise in remembering what it was like before I learned how to properly take care of myself.

Living out of boxes. Working long hours with an irregular schedule. No evidence of routine. No energy or perceived time to workout. No internet. Financial woes.

Thank the gods I have a partner-in-crime to lean on at the end of each disproportionately exhausting day. Of course, sharing a space with another human being presents its own set of problems--even if he is the love of your life. But in general, this adjustment has the most optimistic prognosis.

In other news, our water smells of sulfur (rotten eggs) so I am less than motivated to soak in the bath (I give myself kudos when I can simply rally to shower daily). My yoga mat is rolled up in the corner anxiously waiting to be used in a pile of other stuff I can't unpack and set up until we find some decent shelves. My "back patio", front door step, and general lawn for about a 30-meter radius around my house is a mud pit.

Beyond that mud pit, though, is a killdeer nest. And a 1-acre dog park that Katahdin can rule with an iron paw. Not too far down the road is access to the Cayuga Trail system and Sapsucker Woods. And there are wild blackberries in the hedgerow behind our house. My partner has patience with me (that most of the time I don't deserve), and is becoming more and more comfortable cooking Whole30 for and with me. Occasionally, I can go to the gym during my lunch break.

Still, I struggle.

A lot.

I am often overwhelmed with how much there is to do. The days rarely seem to have enough hours in them. Many times I catch myself wondering, "This is summer. Aren't I supposed to be less stressed during the summer?"

I spent basically the entire spring semester telling myself and my therapist that once I got to summer things would be better. Once I moved, things would get easier because I wouldn't be lonely anymore. My summer research internship would be less demanding than my academic course load. The weather would improve and I would be able to get outside and move more. All these things collectively would benefit my overall well-being.

Yet, "things" aren't better.

I've lost that post-Whole30 sweet spot where everything in my body was well-oiled and running smoothly (even though I haven't even really gone off Whole30 in my day-to-day life). The bloom is off the Whole30 rose, I guess you could say. But does that mean that I really go back to the misery I felt before the Whole30 was a staple in my life? Most of the positive behavior changes and habits have stuck, so why do I feel like I've taken so many steps back? I guess even though the Whole30 taught me so much about how influential nutrition is to most every aspect of my life, I've already forgotten that a little.

And did I mention my back is sore again? My back is sore again! This is the most disconcerting symptom of my stressed out state.

My only solace is that I can recognize stress and anxiety to be the instigators and take measures to combat it before I end up in urgent care again. BUT I AM SO DISCOURAGED. I was improving so much. Physical therapy, emotional therapy, Whole30 eating and living, getting my strength back and feeling good in my skin--these are all positive steps I've taken in the last six months. And I will be damned if all that work is for naught because I can't handle a little transitioning in my life.

Part of the issue could be that the last year (and if you want to get deep with it--the last four years, nay, seven years) have been perpetual transition, and I've done a pretty crap job of coping so far.

Yet again, I find myself looking toward some nebulous future time when "things" will miraculously be better. When I get settled in this new home. When I have the routine of school again. When I get my financial aid figured out for next year. When I graduate. When I finally feel like I'm on the right career path. Blah blah blah blah blah...

Am I kidding myself?

If I cataloged my thoughts for a day, an overwhelming amount of the them would be tainted with doubt, shame, and insecurity. However, nearly none of these feelings are expressed in the words I speak to those around me or in how I present myself on social media platforms. That's mostly because I don't want to burden my loved ones with those thoughts. And I'm embarrassed that I even think most of them.

So you see the yummy food I eat. And my handsome-adorable-spectacular-amazing-beautiful-wonderful dog. And the occasional pastel painted sunset. And the flattering yoga poses and shameless gym selfies. The cliché things.

And all I can think of right now is how I'm ashamed that my internet-life is a cliché. And while I'm being honest, I'm ashamed to admit most of the things I've said here. But I'm saying it anyway--selfishly--because I hope someone else will see it and realize they can be real on the internet too. And the more real we see presented on the internet, the less we have to be ashamed of in our own lives.