Self-Doubt (and Other Forms of Pity)

Lately I’ve been carrying an ache in my chest and an ever-growing fear of the future. Does anyone notice my panic? Do they know they’re walking past a disaster?  

My body is what worries me. She shows signs of the chaos: stress acne, old and new scars, thinning hair, and very tired eyes. I feel exposed when I can feel my physical self fluctuating; staying present is hard when maintaining a front is so exhausting.

I’m constantly left asking myself:

“Do they know I’m faking it?”

For the past few months, I’ve been floating between incredible highs and deep lows and I struggle to maintain a balance. When I’m happy, I feel delirious: I can’t contain my laughter, my teeth chatter with excitement, and my body doesn’t know how to keep up with my mind. These moments are fleeting - when I feel them, I’m brought down by the fact that I won’t feel this happy tomorrow. It’s like my brain releases all the happiness I need at once, and I’m left with a dwindling supply of serotonin to ration. These shifts scare me - keeping track of mood swings is pointless if the chart doesn’t make sense. 

It’s not productive to feel everything at once; you’re left with nothing to work with. I’m constantly in a state of burnout, whether it be creatively, socially, or mentally. There’s a lack of drive that comes will being drained, and I often label it as laziness or passivity (to which I then feel guilty). I’m never doing well enough to meet my own standards - what I say, do, and think are never harmonized. It’s difficult to achieve anything of merit when the person on the other end of “no” is always me. 

What’s there to be done really? Here I am, living in Toronto and I should be having the time of my life - I feel like a fraud. I have imposter syndrome about my own life, and I’d love to blame Instagram for my problems, but I think it comes down to me. It comes down to the things I perceive others have and the things I perceive I don’t - stability, trust in the self, worthiness of the things I’ve worked for. The only thing I have in abundance is doubt, and it’s constantly overflowing. 

I never used to care about getting older; all bodies degrade with time and there’s not much to be done except moisturize. However, I dread carrying this weight with me into full blown adulthood. My biggest fear is that it’s already been as good as it gets, and what good still remains will leak out of me with each passing year. 

Still, I need to cling to something. In a desperate scramble for some semblance of joy, the small good things are all I have. Treating a friend to coffee, a phone call on the walk home, a gentle and human interaction with a stranger. I feel starved of goodness - there’s been moments where a simple “thank you” or genuine compliment has brought tears to my eyes, and it’s very awkward for someone to apologize for being nice. But these moments are what carry me from one day to the next - knowing there is good in others means there has to be some good left for me. 

Kind people alleviate a portion of the doubt I have about myself. We all have something to prove, and as I wade through oceans of doubt and self-pity, there’s always been a gentle hand to pull me up and stop me from sinking. Though I still haven’t proved myself much of anything, I think my capability of surrounding myself with good people proves something. They see a worthiness in me that I often miss, and are nice enough to overlook my panic. In time, I’m hopeful the ache in my chest will lessen and the pain will subside - if it doesn’t, I know I’ll have some kind hands to fall into.