Yesterday I was scrolling Instagram when a New York Times post hit me like a slap in the face (one I probably needed very, very much). On a serene baby blue background with hints of a buttery yellow shade stood what is probably one of the most complex questions someone can ask us. “How are you, really?” There’s something about that “really” that makes you feel like you have no choice but to really dig deep and be honest about how you really feel.* I saved the post for later and thought it would be nice to go back to it someday, perhaps even write a piece about this thing that we all do from now and then — trade our vulnerability for the illusion that we have everything together, or mask how we truly feel to be more digestible for those around us. And although there’s nothing wrong with trying to protect the people we love from hurting with our hurt, sometimes we need to ask ourselves, “at what cost?”
The thing is: we may be able to fool others, but we’re never capable of tricking ourselves. And also: the Universe is funny and signs really are everywhere. A few hours after coming across that post, I stumbled upon another one of those questions that hit you like an unexpected wave when you stupidly turn your back to the sea (never turn your back to the sea). There’s something both heartbreaking and heartwarming about reading about how other people are, really. Even though you don’t know them, you feel it. It’s raw, unfiltered, unafraid. It doesn’t hold back, it doesn’t try to please anyone, it doesn’t try to be something that it’s not. It exists as it’s supposed to. It simply is.
So I decided to go back to that New York Times post. 33 questions. A self-guided check-in. Despite taking up journaling recently (and failing miserably to commit to it), there’s a sort of accountability of writing these down, here. One of the things I love the most about writing — good or bad, it doesn’t really matter — is how words can make someone feel. How someone else’s experience might speak to you in a way that makes you feel seen, less alone, supported. I won’t bother you with 33 questions (this is not Vogue), but here’s five that stood out to me and how I’ve really been feeling — and perhaps they’ll stand out to you, too.
Do you tend to feel more positive or negative emotions throughout the day?
Oh boy, here we go. A few months ago, I took a good look at my life and felt like I was the worse person in the world. I had everything I ever wanted, and I still felt miserable. I was sad most of the time. I cried a lot. Despite being surrounded by people, I felt lonely. I felt like no one understood me and I wanted to disappear. This led to a terrible amount of guilt that made sense when my therapist spelled out the word “depression” in one of our sessions. Today, I still battle with a bunch of negative emotions. I wake up feeling anxious most Monday’s. I feel like a failure when something goes wrong at work (even if it’s 110% out of my control). I feel small when I convince myself that I’m almost 30 and have nothing to show for myself. I look at my body and I hate what I see. I beat myself up for past mistakes. I feel stupid for not letting go, but feel guilty when I try to. It’s an illusion to think that we can live without negative emotions or feelings, so I’m learning to deal with them while appreciating the good and making a conscious effort to put my energy there.
Is your inner monologue more self-critical or self-compassionate?
This is starting to feel like a bad idea. I'm self-critical, have we met? Living life feeling like you’re your worse enemy is exhausting. As much as I know compassion, empathy and forgiveness, I have little to no idea of how to extend them to myself. Therapy has been one of the best tools to unpack this inner monologue and learn how to slowly become more “neutral” about myself. For now, we’re still making an effort to say “thank you” when someone says something nice to us. But we’re getting there.
Do you have someone you could call in an emergency?
But why??? These past few days have reminded me of how lucky we are if we have people around us who truly love us, care for us, and check-in when we need it the most. It’s a beautiful thing to know connection, support, and patience. I’m one of those people who are lucky enough to have someone they can call in an emergency.
Are there things in your life that give you a sense of meaning or purpose?
Fuck. Meaning and purpose have been on my mind a lot lately. After moving jobs a few months ago, I felt like I had no real purpose in life that truly fulfilled me and made me feel good about myself. When I tried to think of something, everything felt so small and meaningless. So I started thinking about reframing purpose and what it really means to me. Perhaps my purpose doesn’t have to be something “big”. Perhaps it can be as simple as writing, being happy, and loving those around me. I just got chills thinking about how nice that would be.
Do you feel like there are things in your life that you’re good at?
Do I really need to go there? I always believe that writing was the one thing I was good at. That is until I discovered imposter syndrome and its best pal, comparing yourself to others. They really are like those people who don’t understand social cues and never know when it’s time to leave your house. But since this is my party, I’ll just keep trying to kick them out. Nicely.
*Apologies for the amount of “really’s” used, but I do feel like they really add something. The word is starting to blur my vision and look weird, I’ll stop now. Really.
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Espero que um dia — e que seja em breve — consigas perceber o tamanho do teu talento e de ti mesma. ❤️