This is gonna be one of those spur-of-the-moment blog posts, so bear with me. It’s 11:15PM, I’m huddled between pillows in my bed, and I’ve had this topic whirling around in my mind for the past few days.
Whenever I get on the internet, I happen upon some kind of self-help article or post. Whether it’s teaching the readers how to live their best life in a neat, 10-point format (if only it were that simple), or telling them why they should work out more, or even when it’s self-induced in the form of comparison whilst scrolling down Instagram…humans have a constant need to do more, to be more.
And I am not here for it.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for self-improvement and personal growth. Hell, I have an entire category on my blog dedicated to it. But I do believe that most of the time, the idea of being better than what you are is shoved down your throat, and it’s damaging.
When I log on to social media in the morning, I’m immediately slapped in the face with stories and pictures of my friends at the gym at six in the morning, then eating a balanced breakfast, then wearing gorgeous designer clothes and heading to work, because #riseandgrind of course. And at night, those same friends get home from long days and instead of sitting their butts down with Chinese takeout and Netflix like I would, they’re getting ready for a night of dinners, hanging out, and socializing. And on the weekends? They’re jet-setting away to Dubai for a romantic getaway with their #bae, feeling #blessed.
I know it sounds like I’m bitter, but I swear I’m not. I commend people like this. I wish my life was like theirs. I love being busy, and I wish I could say “oh no, I haven’t caught up with the latest season of Jane the Virgin; I have too much going on!” (although maybe not because I would literally rather fake sick and catch up on Jane the Virgin than even consider missing an episode).
I just feel like it’s not necessary to be this way. What happened to waking up and enjoying how the morning sun warms your face whilst you hit the snooze button a couple times? What happened to enjoying the feeling of a buttery croissant sliding down your throat without feeling guilty that you still hadn’t hit your goal weight? What happened to lying on the couch, listening to the sound of your mom chattering away on the phone and your dad watching Nat Geo, and not worrying about your career or your love life or your lack of rock-hard abs?
Is my life perfect? No. Far from it. But from here on out, I’ve decided to be content. I’m done trying to create the picture-perfect life. I’m happy where I am, no matter where that may be.