I should be enjoying the sounds of a good morning: birds chirping, children giggling at the bus stop in front of our house, the faint breathing of my daughter still asleep upstairs, the sighs of my sweet dog watching deer and other wildlife meander through our yard.
But instead, I’m listening to myself whine.
I’m listening to that ever-present, underlying fear of failure and doubt of my abilities. It’s a conversation I have way too often. Rationally, I know it’s all lies. I know I’m a good mother, a creative person and a loyal friend. I know in my head that the choices I make are rooted in love and a desire to make this world a better place for my children and for future generations. But, irrationally, my heart shrinks from the truth. I see short-comings and disappointment in the mirror. I hear complaints and excuses fall from my lips. Impatience and annoyance lurk around every corner of my mind.
Too much silence causes me to nervously
doubt talk to myself.
Foolishly, I don’t find comfort in the peacefulness.
The heartbreak of it all though, is knowing so many of us have these same conversations, and yet, we don’t fully support one another. Instead, we judge and point fingers. We compare and pat ourselves on the back, “at least I don’t do that” we say. It is cruel to let others believe they are the only ones struggling to be the people they want to be. It is also only a temporary band-aid, our wounds will never heal until we admit they are still open.
Sometimes, the wounds are self-inflicted.
I do not have it all figured out.
I don’t always believe in myself.
But today I am trying to listen more and talk less.