Living Authentically

I've been thinking a lot about the idea of living authentically. I always thought that I was really doing what I wanted to be doing, I mean, I am writing and publishing, I got into the MLitt programme I wanted, so on and so forth. But I find this unemployment thing, the whole running out of food thing, not having a place thing, etc. is getting me down. As time has marched on over this past year of being stranded, I've been slipping deeper and deeper into a kind of bland stasis. I'm watching way more TV than, well, ever. For 4 years I didn't even own one, but now I have "shows." After I scan the papers and sites for jobs, I flick on the TV and lose my mind in comedy and nature documentaries. Granted, some of the writing is excellent, and I know more about mammals, amphibians, and deep sea creatures than I will ever need to know (Yay!), but I'm not exactly happy. Actually, far from it. I have several writing projects, but they are nowhere near complete, I have a stack of fabulous books that I've been meaning to read, and a list of journals to submit to, and yet, I'm one lazy bitch. I do walk 5-10 miles a day and I do yoga about once a week, but even so, I used to do yoga daily because it's what I love. I'm not even writing daily over the past few months. What's wrong with me?

At first I thought, well, I'm just depressed, which rationally makes sense. Being in a state of abject poverty is stressful and can easily turn depressing. But, I know myself better than that. Then I thought, I'm just not feeling well. It's been a trying year, which is also true, but, it doesn't seem to be the main issue. I've been through worse. I've felt worse. A few years ago I had scurvy. It's not that bad at the moment.

So?

It turns out I'm just plain scared. Yup. I'm afraid to live authentically. I'm afraid to really and truly apply myself. I have been applying myself this year, sometimes quite a lot, but not consistently a lot. I have really bad weeks where I slip into oblivion, and that is just not "me." I'm afraid because when I was a child my abusers told me through their actions and words that I was inherently bad, weak, and deserving of abuse. I thought I had shaken these ideas loose, but they seem to have crept under my skin again. Upon deep meditation I realized that I had this belief that if I became my full, desired self, terrible things would happen to me and that people would hurt me again. That, of course, is preposterous. I'm proud of all I've achieved this year, and I know I can do more. I know I can work harder, and I know I'd be happier that way. So, I'm saying, "Screw you, Fear," and I'm dedicating myself to living authentically. I'll let you know how it goes. Authentic day 1, I submitted to another journal, edited a batch of poems, and wrote some stacked up correspondences, despite my raging cold (which is dizzying and yucky, but not incapacitating).

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has been holding back. There's nothing scary about it. Go forth and live authentically!