I worry about not being smart enough.
I know I’m not alone. Feeling “less than” haunts me, albeit to a far lesser degree these days. Gratefully, self-acceptance comes with age and hard-earned wisdom. I now acknowledge the distant light at the end of the tunnel that doesn’t seem so far anymore, that all the time I took for granted is now speeding by, and that the years of youthful experiences help me to put my life into perspective.
It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized, I had never asked myself or was concerned about whether or not I was “happy”. It was easy to fool myself into thinking I was, especially when the adrenaline associated with a high-paced life can be mistaken for fulfillment and “busyness” can justify bouts of anorexia. I forged on, thinking this so-called “happiness” was normal, so when flare-ups occurred, I responded by engaging in palliative treatment, working to simply alleviate symptoms, and not getting to the root of the problems.
Yoga became a portal to rediscover happiness. Through it, I learned to calm my mind, to savor stillness, and to give my inner voice an opportunity to be heard. I had spent far too long ignoring it, muffling it beneath layers of daily activity, mental noise, and convoluted justifications. Listening to it meant putting in the work to examine recurring patterns of destructive and/or deconstructive behavior and reassessing and re-plotting the trajectory of my life.
I can happily say that I’m a work in progress and for me, that’s enough.