I once had “my own biggest cheerleader” all over my social media. It was a part of my digital identity, a tagline across various social platforms: my Instagram bio, blog, dating apps — you name it. Back then, it felt true. Today, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. In the past year or so, I have noticed that I’ve become my own biggest parasite. My biggest rash. My biggest pimple. One I just can’t seem to pop no matter how much I squeeze it. Sorry for the graphic slash disgusting metaphors. In other words, I’ve become my worst critic, my biggest obstacle. And it.. sucks?!
When the tiniest thing happens, I swallow all the positivity I’ve had until that point and resort to a dramatic display of drowning in doubt and despair. (damn, that alliteration tho)
I don’t cheer. I lash out. Not at others, but myself.
I don’t do cool stuff with sparkling pompoms. I fight with bleak thoughts.
I don’t chant a series of catchy phrases over and over again. I list what pisses me off. On a loop. In my head. (and occasionally to my boyfriend, thx, you’re the real MVP)
I don’t make backflips. I curl up in the fetal position and cry.
I’ve been feeling moody and overreacting dramatically. My automatic response to challenging situations has shifted towards self-criticism, and it’s become my default reaction. I find myself responding to these challenges with harsh self-criticism, and I can’t help but feel frustrated, almost silly, and even guilty about it. It’s as if all my self-medicating techniques to improve my mood have vanished into thin air.
I jumped too high, aiming for the top of the pyramid, only to fall even faster than I ascended.
I stopped doing things I once enjoyed and there’s nobody to blame but me. I can come up with excuses all day, but there is no one to point that finger at other than myself, really. I keep saying I got busy with life, but, what is life without making time for what truly matters? I forgot to enjoy
I know it’s a whole load of bs. Everyone has a “busy” life. I’ll just admit I got lazy. And tired. Tired of chasing the meaning of life on a daily basis, lol. But we all know that
INSERT ANY OTHER CLICHÉ QUOTE ABOUT THE JOYS OF LIFE. You get the gist.
It might sound pathetic, but it’s the truth. And now, I can’t stand myself for taking ten steps forward, making so much progress, only to stumble fifty steps back. Tripping over my own clumsy feet.
I hate my anger. I hate my self-pity. I hate my self-doubts and worries. The best thing to do? Turn them all into self-motivation. Yada yada I know. Become my own cheerleader, again.
I know I got the cheer choreography down, I’m just not ready or in the mood to perform it. Yet. Doing that takes willpower, effort, and patience. And I prefer to procrastinate as of now. So I’ll cross that motivational bridge when I get there, mkay? Mkay.
Side note: Never have I cheered in my life, and neither do I have the flexibility or knees for it. All I know about cheerleading is from 2000s teen romcoms and 2010s teen series.