A walking dictionary of joy

I have decided this is going to be my solely 2020 goal:

Especially after stumbling into Zan Romanoff’s newsletter where she talks about the struggles of trying to discern how much you have achieved things in life and how much you want to achieve more, but still feel like you aren’t there yet (I believe this is an ongoing monologue of mine in this blog, of which I am happy to hear if anyone has any of their own stories to chip in):

“Now that this has happened,” she said, “honestly, my biggest goal for this year is to figure out how to enjoy it. Because I’ve watched so many people achieve these things that seem like the peak, like the pinnacle, and somehow, they’re still miserable. It turns out that there’s nothing so big– no award, no contract, no amount of money– that it just, like, transforms you into a person who’s satisfied, and who feels like she’s done enough. That’s something you have to figure out how to get to yourself.”

Because also:

… it is so hard to know where ambition and drive end, and useless self-sabotage begins. I wanted one thing; I got it; I set a new goal. That’s reasonable, right? The problem is when I allow the new goal to make the old ones seem smaller than they were, and are. I’ve done so many things that, five or ten years ago, would have seemed like wildest-dream material. It’s stupid that I let myself forget that as often as I do.

And, (I feel) this poem just encapsulates everything about the anxiety of internally validating yourself in a world that constantly demands your attention, your productivity, and your hours to churn ‘marketable’ work that will translate into your personal worth.

A screenshot of a poem called Deconstruction by Mary Ruefle, which reads:
"I think the sirens in The Odyssey sang The Odyssey,
for there is nothing more seductive, more terrible, than the story of our own life, the one we do not want to hear and will do anything to listen to."

More reassurances:

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