What do I title this? Imposter syndrome? Writer’s block? Zero motivation? Introspective deep thoughts? Idk

Can you say you wrote a blog every single day when I a) didn’t write a blog on March 22nd, and b) when I go to backlog a blog for that day, it’s a load of ranting bullshit? Seems like I’m a god damn fraud is what it is.

I mean I am a fraud. Imposter syndrome is a god damn fucking bitch babbbyyyy. I don’t even think I entirely know what imposter syndrome means, but I do know that I am constantly in my head about my content, and I can be wildly insecure about it. One minute I’m like “wow I need to be hired by a media company, I’m fucking hysterical” and the next I’m staring at an empty wordpress page thinking “you’re not even funny or a good writer, just give it up.” Can you tell which one I’m feeling today?

Doing what you love is fucking hard. You’re constantly double guessing yourself, wondering if you’re good enough, not understanding why it’s not going anywhere, but also thinking you know why it’s not going anywhere. It’s hard to be a content creator these days. And to top it all off, this is a one woman show! A blog and a podcast all written, created, and produced by me. It’s one thing to create content. It’s another to edit and publish it. And it’s a whole entirely other beast to fucking promote it. Can you tell I’ve been posting on Instagram like a fucking madwoman? Because I don’t know what else to do!! These past couple weeks have been so busy. A new job, the Taylor Swift Mega Bracket, recording and editing the podcast, blogging daily on top of that. I mean, I need to cut myself some fucking slack. It’s fine now because I can do all of these things since I’m home, but there is no fucking way this shit is sustainable.

Is this blog me just me realizing I’m about to burnout? ha ha ha ha. No….maybe… No…

I’ve been so fucking tired and irritable and if I wasn’t 100% sure that I was not pregnant, I would honestly assume I was pregnant. I’ve been a fucking bitch for no reason. Cranky and annoyed at literally anything. And my extroverted ass hasn’t wanted to hangout with anyone, which should probably be the first red flag to that something is wrong. Will I do anything about it?

I feel like you get a blog like this from me about once every two months. I have zero thoughts on what to write about, so I just write and rant about whatever the heck is in my head, and this is what comes out. I guess it’s good to talk about this shit, let other people know their not alone. Hopefully I’m not alone in this at least? I can’t imagine I am. If you’re reading this and you’re thinking I’m a weirdo… well, don’t fucking tell me, I don’t need to hear that. If you’re reading this and wondering if I’m okay, I mean yeah, overall I am. I think the end of the pandemic being so close but so fucking far away is making me go crazy. Watching so many people getting vaccinated and be able to do things, while I sit here not eligible yet makes me want to lose my mind. I don’t typically have FOMO but right now I have the WORST fomo. I also have been super on edge due to the massive amounts of money I owe in taxes, ha ha ha FUN.

I don’t fucking know where I was going with this, but I guess it’s good to get it all out. Is this all of it? Unsure. But I guess we’ll see how I feel after this. Is this why people go to therapy? I need to find a therapist Jesus christ. But the thought of a telehealth therapy appointment kind of makes me want to die. I know that I can probably go in person, but the effort of finding a therapist also makes me exhausted just thinking about it. It’s an uphill battle ladies and gents.

Jesus Christ, I promise I’m fine.

narrator voice: I mean, she’s okay.

I think I’m also wildly touch starved… Why the FUCK am I getting emotional writing this. Champagne Problems came on shuffle and I’m about to burst into tears. God damn it, why is writing so fucking cathartic? I need a nap is what I need. I need a McDonalds cheeseburger, a large fry, and a nap. Lord JESUS. Catch you guys on the next one I guess. PEACE.

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