Worn Thin

I took this self portrait four months ago; quite literally in the middle of a really desperate moment.

Everything in my life felt like it was spilling over; like red wine spilled and stained on white carpet. I had this towel wrapped around me and walked into my room for a change of clothes.

In an instant, the crippling paranoia from January’s madness hit me like a ton of bricks. Right there in my floor, on my knees, in my shower towel, I wept. It felt kind of weird to set up my camera and take a self portrait quite literally in the midst of my own madness, because what emotional weirdo does that? At first, I edited out the phone charger plugged into the wall and blacked out most of my bare back. I think I revised this 892734 times. I even sent it to a dear and trusted friend and artist, whom I massively respect, to critique.

But then, I exposed myself to light more (in this case, literally and metaphorically), and kept most of the grittiness of it the same. It felt real. It felt honest. It felt oddly freeing. And isn’t it funny that today’s theme is freedom?

It felt so much more human and relevant than airbrushing a pristine headshot and popping the colors, because my gosh, I am so sick of stuffing things down and trying to look pretty just to fool others and even myself.

It is a chapter of my life I kept pretty private while it happened. But, to say the least, a lot happened behind the scenes – things very much out of my control – that began to eat me alive. To the outside world, I seemed fine. I think that’s a perk of having young skin and the magic of some face makeup and a great poker face.

Behind closed doors, I was far from fine.

One look around at the unfolded clothes springing out of my drawers, and it felt as if my own room was as chaotic as my inner world. Some lyrics from Lisa Cimorelli felt like they knew me better than anyone in my life.

I skip my dinner, I paint my face
He picks me up, we stay up late
I close the door, I’ve lost my way
So I drown myself in pain

The food, the clothes, the boys, my drugs

I push it down, I lock it up

So many ways to waste my time

I use it all to dry up the flood

-Lisa Cimorelli (Unloved)

I think that sometimes it is easier to describe the things tangibly happening, while also feeling 100% isolated in one’s muddled psyche and relentless race track of a thought life.

Today, I am tired. I am worn thin.

Outrageous medical bills on zero health insurance in the mailbox. A damaged car still awaiting repairs from an accident almost two months ago. Leftover madness from Los Angeles and its many unpleasant situations – the place I ran from – dragging me back by the ankles. Self employed status giving zero PTO. Massive life anxiety and a million confusions and one too many “Goodbyes” and bad dreams when I try and sleep the day off. All the while trying to stay afloat and be a decent friend, business owner, and somehow keep myself in tact.

It can be easy to highlight the prettier flicks of life, and I can even trick myself into thinking I’m fine. People have it way worse and there’s always some big something to one up my internal state of being, right? Right.

Yet, no matter how many “positive vibes only/glass half full” quotes I scroll across, cliche hyper calvinistic “It’s God’s perfect plan” attempts of encouragement, and people I look around at, who indeed have it worse…my circumstances still feel overwhelming.

And that is because they are overwhelming. Perspective is great, but it is no magic pill to eradicate every low and struggle.

I could paint on my face and smile and display an array of images in warm light to match the algorithms. I could talk about lighter topics or at least try to be festive, since today is the 4th of July. Maybe I should have worn a sunhat and an American flag and run around a field to look patriotically whimsical for social media. Heaven knows, I could at least wear some clothes for this post. I am sure my salvation is already in question because my bare back – even in its rawer, more unattractive, out of focus form – is staring at anyone reading this. I could do a lot of things. I could be a lot of things. I could look a lot of certain ways.

But that is not where I am today. Today, I am that girl in the towel.

Tired. Depleted. Worn thin.

Somedays, I am not sure if I am resilient and strong and at peace among the chaos, or just numb and stuffing everything down and pretending I’m fine.

Somedays, I want to put a brown bag over my face when I have to walk into public. Somedays, I want to hide in my closet.

Somedays, I crave to be around people and to feel seen. Others, I want the world to just go away and let me have solitude.

Today, I would not describe myself as doing “bad”, but also not “good”. It is some peculiar in between, where facing reality kind of hurts, yet I also have this deep hope that things will turn brighter.

I think a lot of us feel this way. And you know what? That is okay.

We need not flaunt our better parts just to mask our pain from the outside world.

We need not fake it just to make others feel comfortable and accepting of us.

It is okay to experience an unpleasant feeling; to even sit with it for a bit.

We just need not stay there forever.

This is temporary.

The chaos. The low. The pit of despair.

Temporary.

Remember that.

Joy comes with the morning.

Hang tight.

Worn thin,

AG xo