another personal-ish essay on the grief of releasing my obsession with fixing myself

something interesting has been happening with me: i want to fully embody my mantra of “presence over perfection.” and thus, i’m beginning to actively notice the motions i go through when i want to take a new step in my life. i don’t ever just jump into anything: i ideate, i plan, i worry. and most of all, i work on myself like a project that i’m not allowed to fail. in short, i’m constantly trying to fix myself. and here, i want to talk about why. and then, i want to talk about why i don’t have the luxury of time for that exercise.

i imagine that perhaps fixing has something to do with retiring from hypervigilance concerning the future. i became obsessed with astrology in 2020 because it felt like a reliable anchor, one that i could use to flow freely with the unprecedented nature of existing at this time. perhaps i could rely on it to guide me to the specific areas of personal growth that i have been shying away from. and maybe these were supportive notions to begin with, but somewhere along the path, it began to feel as if i was constantly failing in keeping up with the transits and anticipating what could happening in any sphere of my development. my exertion for the sake of hypervigilance left me in despair. that’s the problem with relying on a system of belief with the aim of “fixing” oneself with any kind of finality—the goalpost will always be shifting.

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humanity is a complex state; it is a fluid experience. unwittingly, i fixed a flag on the shore. events happened, experiences were had and suddenly the personhood that i left solidly planted in the sand is out being tossed in the riptide. i imagined that fixing myself would mean that i could leave the murky waters behind and finally just be present within my life without encountering the same stuff that makes humanity such a wild trip. if anything, when the focus remains on fixing a person, instead of creating more supportive context and building structures through community and deeper, loving relationship with oneself and the earth, life loses meaning. (meaning is informed by the unique perspective of a whole person, flaws and all.) life comes unmoored.

disillusioned with the life’s changing tides, i concealed an urge to abdicate responsibility. (there is something to be said here about parentification in childhood and how it makes responsibility in adulthood feel like an unbearable burden.) if i got to the final point of fixing myself, i wouldn’t need to tend my being anymore. i could walk away from the roiling of my emotions. i wouldn’t feel like my world was shattering every time i experienced harm or deep hurt. being who i am right now, let alone the kind of person i desire, is both deeply rooted work and as simple as breathing. and yet, this requires the ability to listen up, to acknowledge my needs and to undertake my work with devotion. to myself, i was saying: to be fixed meant finally just existing, having paid my dues to the giant excel sheet in the sky that holds all cosmic balances.

god, i wish fixing worked. fixing is the key that unlocks the fantasy, an afterlife here in this lifetime. where every tear shall be wiped from your eyes. no more grief. no more frustration. no more need for faith or hope because the good time has arrived. unfortunately, this is a fantasy informed by perfectionism’s delusions. it eventually expresses itself as a personal|political apathy that prevents me from participating in the struggle towards liberation because i’m too busy trying to show up in ways that are palatable to the corporations and consumers that sustain the capitalistic machine we find ourselves chained to. ultimately, there is no time to be digestible for empire and remain true to myself, my embodiment of liberation, at once.

so i’m welcoming myself (and whoever else resonates) to this life, to this experience of being a hot mess work-in-progress, not with perfection as an ideal, but a deeper moment to moment presence with my own self and the complexity of who i am. as i celebrate this rebirth, i recognize it as a greater commitment to the work of liberation, of loosing my tongue, of shitting on every structure that treasures oppression. in the words of my friend, Nabalayo, i am committed to being inconvenient, and a threat even, to the oppressive forces that exist to exploit my life-force and extinguish it if i do not comply.

here are some reads that have supported my rebirth

this piece had me misty-eyed, thinking of the beauty of all the people i’ve been.