100 PAGES
100 pages
This week, I plopped my butt into my big, fluffy, scoop chair with a dim accent light above me, my tangy pre-workout in my hand, and lo-fi beats playing in the background. I grabbed my salmon-pink journal and flipped through to find the next empty page. Page 100. I smirked, even though no one was around to see. I had journaled for 100 consistent days. It started the day I took my month off of social media and I never stopped. I let out a little noise along with a puff of air, thinking “holy shit… 100 pages. 100 days. 100 releases. 100 realignments. Holy shit the things I’ve uncovered on those pages…”
I learned that consistency isn’t a checklist, it’s a re-wiring. It’s something that comes when you surrender fully to what you know, all of it, everything you’ve ever been taught or told, the ideas and beliefs that you have around the way things are; letting it all go. It’s something that comes when you release expectations & welcome the unknown being open to that all that you know, changing.
After the flutter in my belly went away, I flipped back.
PAGE ONE: “I’ve been cheated on, I’ve been lied to. I’ve been called names. But this relationship with social media has got to be the one that broke me the most. I just really, have no idea who I am.” I wrote angrily. I re-read through the page and could feel the tension I was carrying. I was so full of anger, frustration, fear, trauma, and fight that I could only vent. I could only point fingers and blame the outside world for how I was feeling on the inside.
PAGE ELEVEN: “I think I’m probably really bad with facial expressions. I regret stopping the botox because now I can’t hid my expressions. I just don’t want to feel like shit anymore. Social media is gone but it’s still here, the feelings. And I’d just like to feel a little bit of normal.” I wrote frustrated after a morning where I reacted in defense to something my spouse did/said. This is it, I thought - this is depression.
PAGE THIRTY-NINE: “…You need to work on your tools, sharpen them, polish them, and store them in a safe place - because there is no war - you’re safe. You have enough. You are enough. You do have joy and hope. You do have a vision for the future…” I wrote, almost as an affirmation to myself. I wrote it as if it were true, I wrote it, almost violently. It felt like my hands couldn’t keep up with my “voice” that had so much to release.
PAGE SIXTY-SEVEN: “Today in therapy, she told me stories of how her grandpa experienced the Great Depression at the age of 20 and went on to live 78 years in prep-mode, in case it happened again - she wondered if humanity will be that way post-pandemic. She said - IMAGINE - living 78 years preparing for worst-case-scenario for that to never happen. What would that feel like?! My heart sank. That’s me, living my life in preparation for my world to fall apart, like it had so many times before. I’m preparing for Raina’s Great Depression…” I wrote as tears fell down my cheeks. It was soaking in… would I be able to carry on like this for 78 more years? Even 2 more years?
PAGE EIGHTY-FOUR: “So today feels busy, rushed, spastic, and unknown. Raina hates that. Raina will be tested today. Raina gets to test out her new vibe - can I breathe through it all, remembering to refocus and let go of the 20% that’s not in my control? Embrace this freedom you worked for. Take your daughters to the park, maybe surprise them with Starbucks. They’ve been through a lot too and need some fun, just as you do, Raina. Shut it off when it’s that time, be present and let go of the to-do list.” I wrote nervously as I had a busy day planned with work. My hands were shaky, fearful that I was going to let myself down by ignoring the fact that my hustle mentality needed to die along with that fear. Rest now requires a daily reminder.
PAGE ONE HUNDRED: “I sat for the whole day. Well, I didn’t some… but I took it slow. 100 pages ago, I wouldn’t have allowed myself that luxury. LUXURY - that’s exactly how I saw it. Rest was for those who earned it with blood, sweat, and/or tears. 100 pages in and this new habit of mine has freed me. I get to think a little deeper to find a little more meaning. It helps me heal. It helps me forgive, it helps me create a vision, it helps me release trauma, and it helps me experience compassion in people I may not normally have shown grace to.” I wrote, realizing that silver linings and gratitude were accessories I carried with me daily now. Exhale.
Through 100 pages of journaling, I was able to identify those things that weren’t allowing my “perfect day” to come into fruition. I soon realized that I was already equipped for that perfect day. I had everything externally I needed to make it a reality. The only thing missing was my mindset and belief.
I chose Productivity over rest, every single day because I was stuck in a fight or flight, preparing my home for battle, for the next time something fucked up around me.
For when Chad decides to leave, for when the kids fall into a depression because their dads an addict, for when my next ex-husband empties my bank account.
I was stuck in this cycle that I couldn’t get out of.
THEN, after seeing all of this, realization after realization, in my journaling each morning. I could then make a choice. I could keep living this… feeling this way. Waking up and going to bed with resentment towards the people that chose me, or I chose to surrender to life + distraction - knowing that things change and we have to let old parts of us go to renew.
I realized those past experiences that molded me, they’ll never happen again in that same way. And even if they did, I wouldn’t have the same emotions/hurt/feelings towards them because now, I’m ready for the battle. I’ve had that experience, learned lessons, changed, truly. And I know too much.
100 pages, done.
Let’s see what I can uncover in another 100.
xx RAINA
