jpenseur; Introspective Personal Journal, Poetry, and Anthology.

Today, as I was sitting, I thought about every way I could fail, which induced this unexplainable sort of nausea. The kind where I want to throw up but not needing to. It's because lately, there's been so much to responsibilities and expectations, and I'm overwhelmed. The worst part is I feel like I'm not making any sort of progress. Everything has been piling on, and it's taken quite a toll on my self-confidence. I just want to be someone that can handle anything and everything you know. One misstep in my responsibilities makes me feel like I'm failing myself and the people I care about. I know well enough that I'm competent and everything on my plate is doable, but I can't seem to dodge these waves of sadness and anxiety. 

No one is a tool for your self-gratification. Nor are you anyone else's tool. We live to serve ourselves first. We extend service only when others do the same. 

A reminder to remember; you have so many people that love you. If you disagree, remember that this momentary loneliness is just a segment of the bigger picture. Company comes at unexpected moments. Lingering in the stark white of winter, in the flowers of spring, in the heat of summer, and in the yellowing of fall. Smile in the face of the devil.

 Some advice I heard somewhere that I want to pass along.  Always assume someone in the room knows something you don't.  Never shares secrets. Be particular with who you share good and bad news. 

I feel we're influenced to think that life should be more complicated than it really is. I think it's just finding things that bring happiness, having appropriate freedoms, and enduring hardships that ultimately lead to joy. 

Self-management, at least for me, is having no room at all in my mind for how unhinged people can act toward me. 

Skeleton with a cigarette. We talk with no regret. My heart beats fast in a fishbowl. Yours evident from bone to bone. You bring joy from unexpected places. From texts to peculiar faces. I took a smoke to make some time. To wonder whether your question was benign. I go through the same eb and flows. The question of, am I in love? Or is it just the smoke?