I Can Do Anything
By J.S. Dollin ~
Somedays I think I can do anything. Like I’m made of unscratchable metal and nothing can affect me. I keep pushing forward, making everything morph into what I want them to be and judging everything in my path.
I’m free: ready to live the way I want, do the things I want and see the people I want. And yet, I’m scared. I’m afraid of so much. I’m afraid to put myself out there and change something so menial as my approach to sriracha on my tacos.
The big changes have come and gone.
I keep talking about it because I haven’t gotten over it.
The three year break-up.
The loss of friends.
The beauty of an upcoming move.
I’m finally getting out of here.
Goodbye Chicago. Hello Denver.
And yes, it’s something that I’ve dreamed of.
And yes, it’s something that I hope is a stepping stone to something greater. Something like a giant leap into the ocean.
But it’s not gonna matter. It won’t matter in the least if I can’t stand up for why I’m doing it. If whenever someone challenges me, I start to feel bad about it. Or if I’m too afraid to spend my money to help make me better at it. Why, why do I need such validation?
“Something must be wrong with me,” I think again, as I clutch onto my safety net of an approach, talking to mom about the right ways to do things and then waiting to follow my dream until I can explain it to my parents. How old am I?
I’m living a double life, a secret agent where I’m stuck in the past of my Christian, religious family and I learned not to pick a fight because it’s not going to end well and my parents will say that I’m over communicating. Me over communicating? As a Libra, I babble and I rattle things off at times and I have the tendency to get excited and enthused. But, talking too much just isn’t a thing for me. I only do that with people I’m comfortable with. Everyone else is just background noise: not worth my time. Definitely not worth the time to take anything personally from them. Or if I do, it’s gone the next day in person, but still harboring in my heart.
I judge someone for something they said, but the thing is, I judge myself the worst.
Definitely the hardest. I make it so that I don’t set myself up for success because I expect perfection. Nothing I would ever ask from anyone else, but the bar is high. And it’s higher for me.
I should be over this. I should be better at dealing with this shit. I should be less emotional. The “shoulds” then take over and I’m
there telling myself how much I shouldn’t judge that person and I shouldn’t do that and it’s an endless cycle.
Let’s stop there. Bring myself back to the days when I can do anything. Where I’m happy to be by myself and and I’m happy to be sitting
at my computer writing words on a page. Where I’m happy for my friends and I’m happy to be moving forward in my life. Where I won’t see it all as a failure if I come back to Chicago in a few years. Where I don’t get frustrated when I’m not communicated to. Where I don’t begin to expect more than someone can give.
I’m scared. I’m pushing myself, but I’m scared. Heading into a personal growth conference this weekend with nothing but a fuckin notebook and my own brain to hold me back, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t have anything except myself. And I’m the one I have to live with. And I can’t even admit it to anyone because I think they’ll laugh at me. So I take it, just one step at a time and I don’t overshare, I keep it in. It’s none of their business anyways.
Untouchable, unmorphable, I want to reach out and make peace. I want to let myself feel and be okay that I am a girl with all the feels. And you know what? That’s okay.
Somedays, I truly can do anything.
I’m free: ready to live the way I want, do the things I want and see the people I want. And yet, I’m scared. I’m afraid of so much. I’m afraid to put myself out there and change something so menial as my approach to sriracha on my tacos.
The big changes have come and gone.
I keep talking about it because I haven’t gotten over it.
The three year break-up.
The loss of friends.
The beauty of an upcoming move.
I’m finally getting out of here.
Goodbye Chicago. Hello Denver.
And yes, it’s something that I’ve dreamed of.
And yes, it’s something that I hope is a stepping stone to something greater. Something like a giant leap into the ocean.
But it’s not gonna matter. It won’t matter in the least if I can’t stand up for why I’m doing it. If whenever someone challenges me, I start to feel bad about it. Or if I’m too afraid to spend my money to help make me better at it. Why, why do I need such validation?
“Something must be wrong with me,” I think again, as I clutch onto my safety net of an approach, talking to mom about the right ways to do things and then waiting to follow my dream until I can explain it to my parents. How old am I?
I’m living a double life, a secret agent where I’m stuck in the past of my Christian, religious family and I learned not to pick a fight because it’s not going to end well and my parents will say that I’m over communicating. Me over communicating? As a Libra, I babble and I rattle things off at times and I have the tendency to get excited and enthused. But, talking too much just isn’t a thing for me. I only do that with people I’m comfortable with. Everyone else is just background noise: not worth my time. Definitely not worth the time to take anything personally from them. Or if I do, it’s gone the next day in person, but still harboring in my heart.
I judge someone for something they said, but the thing is, I judge myself the worst.
Definitely the hardest. I make it so that I don’t set myself up for success because I expect perfection. Nothing I would ever ask from anyone else, but the bar is high. And it’s higher for me.
I should be over this. I should be better at dealing with this shit. I should be less emotional. The “shoulds” then take over and I’m
there telling myself how much I shouldn’t judge that person and I shouldn’t do that and it’s an endless cycle.
Let’s stop there. Bring myself back to the days when I can do anything. Where I’m happy to be by myself and and I’m happy to be sitting
at my computer writing words on a page. Where I’m happy for my friends and I’m happy to be moving forward in my life. Where I won’t see it all as a failure if I come back to Chicago in a few years. Where I don’t get frustrated when I’m not communicated to. Where I don’t begin to expect more than someone can give.
I’m scared. I’m pushing myself, but I’m scared. Heading into a personal growth conference this weekend with nothing but a fuckin notebook and my own brain to hold me back, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t have anything except myself. And I’m the one I have to live with. And I can’t even admit it to anyone because I think they’ll laugh at me. So I take it, just one step at a time and I don’t overshare, I keep it in. It’s none of their business anyways.
Untouchable, unmorphable, I want to reach out and make peace. I want to let myself feel and be okay that I am a girl with all the feels. And you know what? That’s okay.
Somedays, I truly can do anything.
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