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My constant fear of what people will think.

They’ll know I’m a fraud.   It’s all an act.   Say the right thing, appear this way and they will approve.   They do approve, so why change? What does my fear look like?  False bravado.  Pursuing confrontation which I’d rather not.  Overthinking every word.  Replaying decade old conversations in my mind, wishing I’d said something different. Saying no to things I should say yes to.  Being illogically headstrong.  Debilitating fear of failure.  Doing only the things people think I’m good at.  Immersing myself in work in a way that’s not always healthy.  Dying on the hill of declarations I made about myself that no longer apply.  Shutting people out.  Pretending I know the words to say.  Pretending I’m a better friend than I am.  Manipulating narratives to suit me.  Playing the victim.  Anger.  Retelling every story like an epic. Lying.  A constant burden to carry.  I even fear that pe...
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Just talk!

There are few things more stressful than grocery shopping. I know it; I am privileged to be able to cart a shopping trolley around throwing in eveything (ish) I’d like with reckless abandon. I work with a shopping list because I’m almost always hungry, not just when I go shopping and we all know that a hungry shopper is greedy shopper. The list also helps to quell my deep seated almost pathological fear of forgetting things. So here’s how it plays out. Grab trolley. Preferably the big ones. Place heavy handbag in the spot where kids can sit. I need to get better at handbag packing because I believe I’m doing myself some long term shoulder damage. Story for another day. Burst through the doors with the gusto befitting such a momentous occasion. Decide which end of the store I’ll tackle first. It’s a quick mental calculation that always has the same result. Fresh veg and dairy last! Head to the very last row and then the craziness ensues.  Two things to note here. Actually o...
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Hurting but Alive.

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I recently received some painfully disappointing news. The kind that hurts in your chest and takes your breath away for a split second. I know you know it. The news that is followed by the sting of tears in your eyes and the immediate realisation that your dream has died. I wrote about it on twitter the other day trying to my make sense of it all. I do this a lot. I try to unravel my thoughts and emotions by writing. A lot of it is in my journal, it's the purple leather bound one from monsoon. I love that journal. Other times I'll write it in my phone notes and other times I'll come here. So here I am. Trying to put this to bed. I've allowed myself to dream big dreams in 2019, when it comes to my career. I have allowed myself to put imposter syndrome aside for a little while and reach for what could be. Some of it worked. Most it didn't and I find myself here facing crushing disappointment with more questions than answers. When I don't have answers I ask m...
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