After a colossally crappy week last week, I hit the ground running on Monday. Sometimes you need a few poor decisions to slap you in the face and wake you up to what you’re doing with your time. So here I am!

Even though I started my blog back in February of 2022, I started showing up for this work at the end of July. When I began thinking out-loud through my writing, I was terrified to express my true thoughts and feelings on the World Wide Web.

But the more I do it, the easier it gets (like most things in life). Putting my thoughts out into the world under my own name has helped me to find my voice again. And now, dear readers (hi mom & dad!), it’s time to pivot yet again. 

I’ve rebranded my ideas under the Abi Normal Society. Remember when I told you I wanted to launch a community coffee house where everyone was welcome and we’d have lots of different classes and things? Well, this is my online version of that dream.

The Abi Normal Society aims to provide community support, resources, and tools for people to love and value themselves just as they are. I wanted to rebrand because this concept is so much bigger than me and its eventual success will be because of the wonderful people that will (and already have) come together to make it the wonderful society it will be. Dr. Jess will help get ‘er off the docks, but it’s going to take a lot of other wonderful people to keep her afloat.

I’m rebranding everything. All my social media accounts, my newsletter (which is Abi Normal News by the way), and soon I will have a new website as well. Yesterday I launched a facebook group for people to come together to support one another on this journey: Self-Love & Self-Worth for Misfits. Come and join us if you’re so inclined!

Part of me feels like I have no freaking clue how to do all this stuff, but that’s ok. My mentor told me that every time I feel imposter syndrome leering at me to remember why I’m doing this. I’m doing this for people to feel seen, valued, heard. 

You may be wondering why in the heck I named this brand the Abi Normal Society. Unless you’ve seen Young Frankenstein, you’re probably like “What a weird name…” And if you have seen Young Frankenstein, did I nail it or what?!

But I digress. In Mel Brooks’ movie, Young Frankenstein, there’s a scene after they’ve brought the ‘monster’ to life and things aren’t really going well. Dr. Frankenstein, his assistant Igor, and the lovely Elizabeth have a debrief about why things are a hot mess. 

Dr. Frankenstein turns to Igor and asks, “Now, that brain that you gave me. Was it Hans Dell Brooks?” Turns out, no. It sure wasn’t. 

Frankenstein’s follow up question is, “Would you mind telling me whose brain I did put in?” Igor responds, “Abi someone… Abi Normal.” Lolz. Frankenstein loses his shit over the fact that he unknowingly put an “abnormal” brain into this ungodly, reconstructed hulk of a human.

That’s the scene, and I’ve been quoting it since I was a child. Why did I choose this scene to represent my new brand, you ask? A few reasons. 

For one, Young Frankenstein is a great movie and I love me some comedy. But more importantly, we’re all a bit Abi… Abi Normal. Every single one of us has our flaws, baggage, insecurities, and imperfections. And every single one of us, just like Frankenstein’s monster, is worthy of love no matter how Abi Normal we are.

I can’t think of a better sentiment to bring my new monster– I mean society into this world. While I continue this transition, I will probably continue to write on my personal website because it’s therapeutic to me and maybe it’s enjoyable for a small handful of people to read.

If you’re interested in joining this merry band of misfits, come say hi to me in our FB group or subscribe to Abi Normal News to get some great info on the stuff we all face as Abi Normal humans and ideas on how we can navigate them the best we can.

I’d been worried that my pap smear would show I had cervical cancer after my abnormal results the past two years, but I was so relieved to discover it is now normal. Tuesday I started to worry about the nerves in my back as I began to have worsening right leg pain and now numbness and tingling in my right foot. Yay.

Wednesday night I was put in a compromising situation in which I felt completely violated and totally confused. Thursday morning I had to deal with the complete shit show that was Wednesday night and deal with the consequences of my presence in that shit show. Thursday evening ended in a blow up between my parents. 

Friday morning I was told my parents may be separating (which may be a false alarm??) The gnawing anxiety started to set in on Saturday and Sunday. It said to me, “You need to get your shit together!! Things are falling apart around you and you need to protect yourself!!”

I’m having to combat that feeling. When it comes, I feel the need to push myself harder, do more, take on more. But most of the time that doesn’t really help me. It just adds to the chaos and increases my stress rather than relieving it.

Brené Brown talks about how when we’re overwhelmed we just need to STOP. It makes sense, but I feel like I’ve been in a state of overwhelm for the last two years of my life. And I do stop periodically, but the waves of overwhelm come back again.

I suppose that’s life though, right? Like I wrote about earlier, life isn’t just linear. It’s cyclical too. We figure some things out, and feel like total noobs in other situations. It’s just the way of life.

One of the things I need to deal with is the fact that I tend to sabotage myself in the face of success, especially when it relates to my own goals. I had a fitness coach once, a wonderful woman who I think about often, who told me I seem to have a fear of success. She noticed that every time I was kicking ass and doing really well in my fitness journey, I would start to sabotage myself.

I’ve seen myself do the same thing in other areas of my life too. I wish I could tell you why. Part of me doesn’t think I’m deserving of success. Part of me is afraid it will add more to my plate– that people will want even more from me when I’m successful. Maybe it has to do with my trauma from when I was a child. 

I really don’t know the full reason why I do this. But it’s a habit I have. And I’m fighting it right now. 

I want to build a space for people who struggle to believe they’re enough to be able to come together, support each other, and work through that crap. I have gifts I want to share to help people love themselves, just as I’m working so hard to love myself. Because I believe that is what truly matters the most on this planet. We all have worth as humans, no matter what package we’ve arrived here in or how that package changes over the years. 

And yet that judgy asshole in my head can’t help but yell, “Who the fuck are you to do this? Why should people listen to you? You want them to give you MONEY to do this kind of stuff? You’ve gotta be kidding yourself!”

That voice finds validation in the random comments from people off the internet: “This woman is clearly insecure. She’s in no condition to be coaching people!” or “Wow, her bio reads like one long self-congratulatory statement.”  Yeesh.

Despite the judgy assholes in my head and online, despite my insecurities, my flaws, my imperfections, I’m pushing forward. Because it’s not about me. It’s about the value of fighting for people to be themselves. 

That’s what I am doing. Sometimes not in the most eloquent way, but I’m fighting for other people (and myself) to be themselves. Their whole selves, not just the parts society likes. I’m fighting for the ugly parts, the parts people are afraid of, disgusted by, and indignant about. 

Because we all deserve to be seen for who we really are. We deserve to live our lives in a way that honors our own journey and lived experiences. That’s what I’m fighting for.

Self-sabotage be damned. I’m pushing forward and will do the very best I can to deliver on this vision of creating a space for people to feel loved, valued, and accepted exactly as they are.

“Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.” 

Throughout my life I’ve gravitated towards the “misfits” of the world. The people who don’t quite fit in, who carry the label of “weird”, who don’t conform in the way society tells them they’re supposed to. I love these people.

When you meet me, you might not think I’m one of these people at first glance. I’ve perfected the art of being someone other people want me to be. I’m really good at putting total strangers at ease and finding areas of common ground to talk about.

I can talk to people of all ages, backgrounds, creeds, and affiliations. But this is a skill I learned over the years. I’ve learned how to put other people’s stories first and hide my own.

When I’m by myself I burst into song, make weird noises, dance around, talk to myself, make funny faces. I spin wild ideas I think could solve the world’s problems while my bedroom is littered with dirty clothes, a million water glasses, and papers I never put away. I cackle loudly at puns and slapstick humor.

I am a misfit in my own right, I just learned to hide it when I thought I needed to. I learned to tone myself down to be more palatable for the majority of people. Not too loud, not too bold, not too smart, not too energetic… I watered myself down to try to fit in.

But doing all of that comes at a steep cost. It led me to disconnect from myself more and more to the point that I became suicidal. The more I tried to be less, the less I wanted to live. And to me, that is far too steep a price to pay. 

So I’m learning to peel back the layers of conditioning, suppression, and silence. Bit by bit, I let my weird bubble out. I laugh loudly. I censor myself less. I swear more (which is my natural state). 

And sometimes this is freaking painful. When we suppress ourselves for so long, we have lots of emotions that have been aching to get out. We have relationships that suddenly implode. Jobs that are suddenly intolerable.

But this process is also a breath of fresh air. Because the one thing I am certain we are all meant to do in our lifetimes is to learn to love the people we are. When we make a commitment to learn to love all our parts (even the ones other people tell us are ugly, smelly, mean, and wrong), a massive weight is lifted. 

We were born into this body, and one day we will die in it. So much of the external world is out of our control, but we do have control over the relationship we decide to have with ourselves. It is the only relationship that is truly one-sided, and it is the relationship that matters the most.

The world is big enough to hold the diversity of humans it has. It’s big enough for the weirdos, the suits, the artists, the stay-at-home moms and dads, the nerds, the shut-ins, the hippies, the dominatrixes, the geeks, the dreamers, the gym rats… There’s enough room for all of us.

Humans come in all different flavors, and isn’t that wonderful? Without diversity of thought, body, and experience, how would we survive? I think it’s one of the things that makes our species stunning. 

So the next time you find yourself pushing down the parts of you that you think are wrong or weird or unlikeable, don’t. You are a freaking masterpiece, and your presence on this planet is not only valid, it’s a gift. Find the people who celebrate the awesomeness that you are, and don’t worry about the ones that don’t get you. Those people aren’t for you, and vice versa.

And if you’re thinking, “I don’t know anyone who celebrates me for me!” then you need to start by celebrating yourself. Your relationship with yourself comes first. As you reconnect with you, you will find the right people on your way. Have faith in yourself and your inner awesomeness.

Believe it or not, it’s ok not to know everything and to recognize your limits. Try as we might, humans aren’t invincible. We actually have a lot of built-in flaws.

We make mistakes, say the wrong things, get tired, hungry, horny, lonely, angry, and bored.  All of us fart, and many of us pick our noses when there’s a stubborn booger that keeps tickling us. But we’re taught to hide all of those ugly, “improper” things about ourselves. 

We’re taught to “fake it til you make it!” We silently agree to pretend we are dignified, smart, and confident. Lord help you if you admit you are flawed, especially in the workplace. 

All of this masking comes at a steep cost, though. When we try to be perfect and pretend we aren’t flawed, we move further and further away from who we really are. That’s what masking is, isn’t it? Trying to be someone else.

And the harder we try to be someone else, the worse our life gets. We get tired, sick, angry, and depressed. The mask can only stay on for so long.

If we don’t have time throughout the day when we can safely take our mask off and just be, it adds increasing stress in our lives. It grows the disconnect between who we really are and who we’re trying to be for the sake of other people. It takes a toll on our mental and physical health. 

So how do we stop masking and come back to ourselves? How do we unlearn these things society has force-fed us for so long?

This is a complicated question, and each person has a different answer. But there are a few things that may be helpful. 

I think we start by recognizing that we’ve been masking and that it has been a draining experience. We acknowledge the struggle we’ve been going through, even though we didn’t consciously recognize it. Validating our own experiences is critical. 

One thing social media has been great about is holding space for all different kinds of people. I’ve had the chance to see many different people talk about masking and what it looks like for them, which has helped me to see some of the same behaviors in myself. Knowing you’re not uniquely weird or messed up in that way is very comforting.

Then we start to look at where we are most exhausted or depleted. What times in our day, week, or month are we most struggling to get by? Can we find any common threads with these times? Do we find ourselves acting in a certain way that makes us uncomfortable or drained?

Once we begin to notice patterns of where our energy dips, when we find ourselves holding back because we fear what other people will think, this gives us an opportunity to try out alternative behaviors. Maybe we don’t feel comfortable removing our masks entirely, but perhaps there is a step we can take in between. 

Here’s an example: let’s say that you are someone who feels compelled to smile widely and raise the pitch of your voice for meetings with your clients, but it’s not at all the way you normally behave. It takes a lot out of you to put that mask on for these meetings, and leaves you feeling drained. 

You might not feel like you have the option to just be yourself, because you’re worried your clients will think you have RBF or that you’re a monotone robot. What if you could find little ways to let that mask start to come off? Or add pieces of your authentic self to those meetings?

Think of other ways you could express yourself differently that bring you more joy in those meetings. Can you wear a baby yoda pin or sticker on your name badge? Color coordinate your lipstick with your underwear? Squish a rainbow stress ball during your talk? Crack a joke during the meeting?

In other words, what small changes can you make that are not as scary as taking off your whole damn mask, but still help you feel more comfortable in your skin? And if you’re ready to stop masking entirely, more power to you. 

I’ve been dipping my toe in the water with how I introduce myself, and I add a lot more humor to my conversations. Just today when someone asked “Oh, you’re a doctor? What are you doing with that?” I grinned and said, “Not a damn thing!” 

Have some fun with it and remember there’s not a single person on this planet who doesn’t have flaws or baggage. And thank goodness for that, right? What a boring place it would be if we were all perfect! 

The first talk I heard this morning was with Viola Davis, powerhouse actress and badass human being. Viola talked about the difference between ‘being real’ and being transparent.  Being real is trendy and avante garde, like openly rocking your $15 shoes.

But being transparent is about being vulnerable to express what’s really true for you. It’s about admitting when you’re struggling, embracing your weirdness, and setting aside the mask you wear to make other people comfortable.

Interestingly enough, the third talk I attended echoed those same themes about showing up in the world as yourself. Jay Schwedelson put on a talk called “How it Started & How It’s Going: How Failure & Pivoting Can Create Massive Opportunity”. He talked about his failures over his career and coming to realize that he only needed to be stellar at one thing rather than lots of things. 

Jay humbly poked fun at himself, with his less-than-impressive powerpoint slides that had personal photos of him. He talked like a normal human being rather than a fancy corporate person, and it was a breath of fresh air. 

In day nine of my journaling experience, I mentioned the more I embrace just being myself and not patrolling my interactions with others, magical things start happening and I meet the right people. Jay echoed the same thought, saying that when he stopped censoring himself and trying to be perfect, the number of people that walked into his life exploded. 

And then they featured freaking DR. JANE GOODALL. My god, what an icon. Talk about a total badass of a woman who, at 88 years old, continues to spread the word about hope, sustainability, and loving on our planet. 

My biggest takeaway from her talk is that there is still hope. And when we get so mired down in being hopeless, we put ourselves in tiny little miserable boxes that don’t serve us. But when we have hope that we can make a difference, and act on the little pieces that we know we can do, our life changes.

I’m tired of feeling anxious and afraid everytime I pull up the news section on my phone. I’m tired of my family members and I talking about how the world is going to hell in a handbasket. That doesn’t serve me and it certainly doesn’t help change things. 

I don’t want to live in the land of overwhelm anymore. I’d rather live in the present, have hope about what good things I can experience today and how I can help spread that goodness to others. That sounds way more enjoyable and within the shit I can actually control.

So what am I going to do? I’m going to surround myself with the stuff that brings me hope and actually makes me feel like doing something. Books, movies, songs, people, stickers…

Hit me up if you want to join me on this journey towards more hope!

So here I am, sitting in my dad’s recliner, lamenting the loss of my usual mobility. I have a new appreciation for people who deal with chronic pain on a daily basis and somehow manage not to be raging assholes. I’m also thinking over the relationship I’ve had with my body over the years.

It’s been a rocky relationship. When I was something like six or seven years old, some shit happened to me that I’m just starting to remember now. It led to me being at odds with my body.

I learned the harmful message that your body was not something you should enjoy or even like, but rather something you should be ashamed of. In second grade I started gaining weight, and by third grade I began to be bullied for the size and shape of my body. 

You’re going to laugh, but I remember when I was in middle school I thought I was a horrible, sinful girl for masturbating. I was so convinced it was a sinful thing, that I felt the need to tell my parents so I could atone for that sin. I sat on the couch with a blanket curled around me, crying in fear.

When I told them, they had to choke back a laugh. They’d thought something horrible had happened. My parents reassured me that exploring your body was normal and nothing to be ashamed of. 

But over the years I continued to struggle to embrace my sexuality and my body in general. I hated going clothing shopping, having photos taken of me, being in a swimming suit in public. I can’t think of a single time I truly felt at peace with my body. 

Every time I’d feel like I’d made some progress in my fitness journey, I’d see other people who looked better than me. Who were prettier, skinnier, stronger, more athletic. I let the comparison fuel the anger towards my body.

There was the acne, the rosacea, the heavy periods of doom every month. My short, wide feet. My eyebrows that stopped too short on my face.

My senior year of college I gained more weight as I struggled to find my place in the world. That’s also when I started having acid reflux. I was miserable. But I kept pushing through, and just started myself on over the counter medications. 

Last year I was diagnosed with a precancerous lesion of my cervix on my latest pap smear. God I hated my body. What good was it anyway?

My body felt like a never ending source of shame and embarrassment. But when I hit a wall with my PTSD, I realized I couldn’t keep beating the crap out of myself anymore. It wasn’t working.

As I began to face the PTSD, other pieces of my life came back to me. I started to remember things from my childhood. These stories I’d carried with me my whole life weren’t really mine to carry. 

The memory of what happened to me when I was 6 or 7 started to come back. Part of me feels like maybe I’m just imagining it. But there was a sense of relief and grief that came with it.

My body gained weight to try to protect me. It was providing a buffer from the rest of the world. And yet I’d hated it instead of recognizing it was trying to help me.

It wasn’t laziness, lack of motivation, or stupidity that kept me from losing and keeping off the weight. My body was holding onto trauma for me until I was ready to process it. And in a society where processed food is easier to come by than fresh food, where high fructose corn syrup and wheat products are everywhere, and business is prized over wellness, it’s really not that surprising. 

Hating our bodies does absolutely nothing to help us. It only hurts us. They do so much for us, even when we don’t consciously see it. 

And whether we like it or not, as Sonya Renee Taylor points out, we experience our entire life as a body. We live and breathe and walk the planet in a body. There’s no getting away from that until we’re dead or scientists learn how to upload our brains into mechanical bodies.

So I would argue that one of the most important things we can do in our lifetimes is come to love our bodies exactly as they are. Fighting our bodies only puts money in the pockets of businesses that take advantage of our insecurities and try to keep us there.

It’s time to change that relationship. Every day I’m going to try to list the things I’m grateful for that my body does for me. My body lets me pet and play with my dog, hug my family and friends, see gorgeous views, smell delicious flowers, and walk along new paths. 

What does your body do for you?

Growing up in a family where intelligence is king, I tend to wear my intellect and big fancy words like a suit of armor to hide my insecurities. If you don’t feel good enough, just try to look smart enough! Right?

Ha! Here’s the problem I’ve run into with this. My goal is to have really great relationships with people. Relationships where I feel safe to be myself and to share my hopes, dreams, and silliness.  

But when I hide my vulnerability behind big fancy words and academic stuff, I find that it creates a barrier between me and the people I would otherwise enjoy meeting and getting to know. I love to learn, and that will always be a priority of mine, but that doesn’t mean I have to parade around my vocabulary.

For people that don’t speak or write that way, it can be intimidating. It shuts down some amazing conversations I could have had. So every day I’m working to step out from behind the smarty pants persona and just be me. 

It’s funny, because in medical school and the surgery world, you want to look impressive. Fake it til you make it. It’s seen as a sign of weakness to admit that you don’t know something or speak like a normal human being. 

I learned to put my accomplishments first and pretend to be confident, even if I wasn’t. All praise the research studies you’ve published! 

But that’s not who I want to be. I want to be someone who can talk with people without them having to scratch their head or silently nod without knowing what the hell I’m saying. That’s a one-sided conversation where nobody really wins. 

It’s a bit scary to show up and just be yourself, but I’m finding that as I do it, I find more people I actually enjoy talking with. Yesterday when I was at Starbucks, I met a couple from Boise, ID whose daughter graduated from medical school and is in internal medicine residency in Ohio. 

For the first time, I was casually honest with these strangers about my PTSD from surgery residency and how I was just working on figuring out life. I didn’t make fun of myself, I didn’t try to make myself look better than I was. I just shared my truth with them.

And we had a great conversation! They thought it was great that I am working on spreading the knowledge I have about emotional health and learning to love yourself. The wife got a kick out of me buying a bus, and told me I should finish it, even if it takes me five more years. 

We grow up in a society that tells us to be afraid of being ourselves. Most of the advertising world is about making you feel like you’re not enough and then trying to sell you something to fill that void. But it’s a bunch of bullshit. 

There’s enough space for everybody. It doesn’t matter what kink you’re into, what you like to nerd out about, or what flavor of mental illness you struggle with– there’s room for everyone. The more you embrace who you are and show up in the world without hiding, you will find the people you enjoy being around. 

Just be you, boo. The rest will fall into place. I believe that now, even though I will probably forget it at least 100 times in the next month. But that’s ok too.

When I quit residency, my parents panicked and tried to get me to stay. It resulted in us not talking for several months. I bought a shuttle bus to convert into a home on wheels, and moved in with my boyfriend to save money while plotting my next steps.

When we started dating in August, my gut had told me something was not right with this relationship. But I’d waved it off as just feeling weird that I’d never dated a guy in a wheelchair before.

The problem wasn’t that he was disabled, but rather that he was a narcissist with control issues. We only dated for something like six or seven months, but it felt like years. And not in a good way. 

After Lola and I moved in with him to save money, I essentially became a live-in caregiver and maid, even though he had aides. I was so mad that one of his aides would come in the evening and just nap on the couch, while I cooked and did laundry. I had not planned on leaving my job to become a domestic woman. 

I felt so trapped. Every time I made plans with my friends back in Rhode Island, we’d have a fight that would end with me deciding to scrap my plans and stay with him. He would make me feel guilty for wanting to do my own things and would comment that he couldn’t just get in the car and drive somewhere. 

Things unraveled the longer I stayed there. I’d tried taking breaks periodically, but then he’d make digs at me for needing too much “me time” and being “moody”. Towards the end he couldn’t stop yelling at me, and I had to laugh when he yelled at me that he wouldn’t yell at me again. 

Like me, my poor dog was miserable when we lived there. My ex had a dog and we had to keep the two completely separated because they were both reactive. Lola regressed and had accidents in the house multiple times a day. 

My suicidal ideation came back a few times then when I felt like I couldn’t do anything right. I felt like I sucked at being a girlfriend, I sucked at being a dog mom, and I was absolutely miserable despite having quit residency. We ultimately broke up in March, right before a trip I had planned in the Caymans for my 29th birthday. 

I decided to cancel our Cayman plans and fly out to visit my parents in Spokane, WA. During that time, I had the opportunity to visit my grandfather’s gravesite in Helena, MT. He had passed away from COVID when I was in surgery residency in 2020. I was unable to attend his funeral service in August 2021, so this provided me with some well-needed closure.

It was nice to visit my grandmother and grandfather’s gravesites and pay my respects. I never really knew my grandmother, but my grandfather and I had a lot of ups and downs. When I was a child, he was a complete jerk to me. But over the years, we grew closer and I came to appreciate him for who he was, warts and all. 

While I stayed with my parents, we had many difficult conversations that helped heal our relationships. We didn’t see eye to eye about everything, but we reestablished respect for one another. It’s hard for parents and children alike to settle into new relationships once everyone is an adult. 

When I came back to CT in April, I lived with a woman I’d met at my co-working space to figure out next steps. I knew I couldn’t stay in CT– it was too expensive to find my own place, and I needed to make another fresh start. My parents told me they would be in SD for the month of May and my dad was willing to help me work on my bus there.

I decided to pack everything up and drive my bus and Lola to Sioux Falls, SD. Three days before I left, I got bronchitis and was told I still had to be out of my living accommodations. I broke down crying two days before my move, wondering how I was going to get my bus packed up, get new tires, and set out by myself when I barely had the energy to sit on my floor and pack my suitcase.

After I dried my tears, I reached out for help, believed it would work out, and pushed through. I didn’t know if we’d stay in Sioux Falls or not, but it felt like a good next step. After I got to Sioux Falls, it was time to make the next step. I decided to move in with my parents in June so that Lola would have a good home and I could work on healing. 

In July, I got COVID, and once again my mental health dipped. It’s been hard to keep reestablishing myself over and over again in a new place. First Fresno, then Providence, then Norwich, and now Spokane. I’ve moved four times in the last two years after having lived in South Dakota for 27 years.

But each time I move, I’m getting stronger and more resilient. More of my self-limiting beliefs fall away. I’m beginning to trust myself and look inward for answers rather than looking outside. 

It’s been one heck of a painful year, with many ups and downs, but I wouldn’t trade it. If this is the price I have to pay for freedom, I will pay it. I’m not going back to making myself small just to make someone else more comfortable. It’s time to shine, baby. 

I took a one-way ticket to CT a few weeks ago so I could retrieve my car. While I was in CT, I was blessed to stay with a friend I had made during my time in Norwich. She, like me, is struggling to find her next steps forward in life. But she is one resilient badass.

This wonderful human doesn’t have a lot, but she was more than happy to share with me that week. She lives in a studio apartment and was more than willing to let me take up her whole damn living room with my air mattress. 

Another friend of mine in CT that stands out to me is in a similar boat. He is someone with very little in the way of financial resources, but has a heart of gold. This guy bends over backwards to help people. He would give the shirt off his back if he thought someone needed it more than he did. 

It blows my mind that I have friends who are willing to give what they can without holding it over my head or expecting anything in return. I’m not used to having reciprocal relationships in my life. It’s one of the reasons I’ve historically been wary of accepting help from others. 

But this is a narrative I’m learning to shift. As I’ve mentioned earlier, the story that receiving help puts me at a disadvantage or at risk for pain no longer serves me. I’m beginning to see that I am just as worthy as anyone else who asks for and receives help, and that receiving help from others can be a beautiful experience.

As I’ve been driving these past few weeks, I’ve been listening to Heather Ash Amara’s Warrior Goddess Training on CD. She talks a lot about the narratives (or stories) we have created and held onto throughout our life. Some of these stories serve us well, and others don’t. 

Heather invites us to begin to observe our minds with kindness and curiosity. She encourages us to slowly become aware of all the different stories in our minds and look at each one and decide whether to keep it, modify it, or let it go.

Whether I fully recognized it or not, this is what I have been doing since I was in the partial program back in RI. I’ve been looking at all the stories I tell myself about how I’m supposed to be, what I’m supposed to do with my life, or how the world is supposed to be. And slowly, one by one, I’m learning to let go of the ones that don’t work for me anymore. 

I’m learning to speak with my own voice, embrace my whimsy and humor, take life a little less seriously, pursue joy and authentic connections with others. And while it’s like pulling teeth sometimes, I’m beginning to see that the parts I like about myself the least are the parts that make me unique. These parts add spice and color.

When we compare ourselves to society’s ideals, we are all deeply flawed in one way or another. But that doesn’t have to be a source of shame. As humans, we are all a lot more alike than we realize. Our “flaws” add diversity to an otherwise monotonous, white-washed world. 

In one of his lectures, philosopher Alan Watts talked about a conversation he’d had with geneticists and ethicistis about genetic engineering in humans. He said to them: “Look, if there’s anything you can do, just be sure that a vast variety of human beings is maintained.” He goes on, “Don’t please bring us down to a few excellent types, excellent for what we never know how circumstances are going to change. And how our need for different kinds of people changes.”

His point is that as humans with our flawed ways of understanding ourselves and the world around us, we will never know what will be needed as the world changes and we are forced to adapt. That is why our diversity as a species is so critical. To decide that one kind of person is better than another is to shoot ourselves in the collective foot. 

We need all kinds of people, even if we don’t see the value in how one person lives their life in a certain way. If you’ve stuck with me this long, you may be asking, “Dr. Jess, what the heck does this all have to do with each other?!” 

My point is that the survival of our species relies on diversity, and we never know what will be useful. So instead of worrying so much about how you fit in with everyone else, focus that time and energy on what works for you. Keep the narratives that work for you, create new ones that pump you up, and toss the ones that make you feel small, broken, or stuck. 

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don’t you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I’ll rise.

I want to dive deeper into the thought of how we hold ourselves back. Perfectionism in particular, has been the bane of my existence. And I know I’m not alone in that.

Those of us who struggle with perfectionism once saw it as something to be celebrated. Sometimes we wear it like a badge of honor, as if it is responsible for our accomplishments and superior work ethic. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth. 

Perfectionism is a soul sucking, creativity killing, joy smashing piece of shit. 

It causes you to constantly compare yourself to an ideal you can never meet. Nothing is bloody perfect, and yet those of us that struggle with perfectionism will exhaust ourselves with needing the product of our efforts to be “just right.” 

We wait until the timing is just right, enough people agree with our ideas, or the stars are in precise alignment. But what good does that do us? Not a damn thing. 

Perfectionism is an excuse to let our fear sit in the driver seat of our life. It prevents us from taking chances and being brave enough to really live. We think it will save us from being embarrassed, judged, or criticized.

But it doesn’t. Those things will happen no matter how hard we work, how closely we pay attention to details, or how precise our craft is. 

Judgment from others really doesn’t have anything to do with us. It has much more to do with the person doing the judging. When we claim responsibility for how other people feel about us, we keep ourselves small and afraid. 

Ok, so how do we go about breaking free of perfectionism? You’re not going to like it, and I know I don’t. You get ready to fail.

To combat perfectionism, you stop when something is “good enough.” You turn in your half-assed attempt. You try something even though you know you are going to suck at it.

You fail, again and again, until you realize that failing isn’t as scary as it’s cracked up to be. The world doesn’t end. People may make fun of you for a while, but then they move on to more exciting (or mundane) things in their lives.

Overcoming perfectionism is realizing that people don’t pay as much attention to what you’re doing as you think they do. They are too busy with their own insecurities and busy lives. 

This is why I’m writing and posting these journal entries publicly. To push myself to confront my perfectionism head on. Nobody is really going to care that much about what I have to say.

Some people might be marginally offended by my swearing, or majorly offended by a stance I take. But so what? I have a right to show up imperfectly and take up space, just as much as anyone else on this planet.

Hi, I’m Dr. Jessica Simpkins and I quit residency with $200K in student loans. I’m unemployed, have little money in my bank account, live with my parents, benefit from Medicaid, and struggle with PTSD. 

These facts don’t even begin to capture all of who I am. They are only part of my journey.

Go ahead and judge me. Be my guest. There’s nothing you could say to me that I haven’t already said to myself. 

I’m not hiding behind the mask of perfectionism anymore. You’d better bet I’m going to keep falling on my ass as I move forward, but I will keep getting up. I will keep learning from each and every failure. 

And every time I am reminded that I am enough without needing to do or be something more than who I am, I will only get stronger. Resilience is the antidote to perfectionism.