This was one of the first Polly columns I read, if not the first, because I typed into the search engine something like "35 wasted life start over," that was a couple years ago, it spurred me on to reading all the Ask Polly columns I could find, and I'm glad that a couple years later I'm feeling much better.
Sometimes I feel like I'm so sick with anxiety -- so chronically ill -- that I don't even recognize a state of non-anxiety. The degree to which I've developed [disordered] self-soothing strategies to keep myself feeling safe enough makes me so sad. The viciousness of my shame and its inescapability explain why I don't feel safe. The call is coming from inside the house. :(
I find this reply so sweet and this line gold "You can run your hands along your own self-defeating edges until you get a splinter, and you can pull the splinter out and stare at it and consider it. When you face your shame with an open heart, you’re on a path to art, on a path to finding joy and misery and fear and hope in the folds of your day."
‘I’m Broke and Mostly Friendless, and I’ve Wasted My Whole Life’
This was one of the first Polly columns I read, if not the first, because I typed into the search engine something like "35 wasted life start over," that was a couple years ago, it spurred me on to reading all the Ask Polly columns I could find, and I'm glad that a couple years later I'm feeling much better.
Sometimes I feel like I'm so sick with anxiety -- so chronically ill -- that I don't even recognize a state of non-anxiety. The degree to which I've developed [disordered] self-soothing strategies to keep myself feeling safe enough makes me so sad. The viciousness of my shame and its inescapability explain why I don't feel safe. The call is coming from inside the house. :(
Damn. This one still hits like a motherfucker.
I find this reply so sweet and this line gold "You can run your hands along your own self-defeating edges until you get a splinter, and you can pull the splinter out and stare at it and consider it. When you face your shame with an open heart, you’re on a path to art, on a path to finding joy and misery and fear and hope in the folds of your day."
This essay changed my life!