inner pizza

feb 15

These past couple months have been a time of reflection, slowing down and listening. Before I take too much credit, this was kind of forced on me by my externals.

The last months of 2023 were filled with work, school, events, holidays, graduations, things that kept me busy. Having been preoccupied with the external, I let a lot of internal feelings and thoughts go by unattended. After a week or so of the chaos calming and with the help of a healing sound bath, they kind of hit me like a rock.

I knew there would be a lot of unknowns going into the new year that I was nervous about, but I didn’t know how much fear was truly there. Through different forms of emotional releases I have discovered a negative internal monologue existing in the background. When things externally were providing joy, this monologue could exist quietly. But with lack of external stimulation, the perfectionism and the need for control get loud.

My perfectionism is the voice is my head that was created by “not good enough”s and “what if”s. Approaching this voice with love and tenderness is what I have found healing the past couple of weeks.

Yesterday, while throwing a frozen pizza in the oven, the instructions read “set the timer and while you wait, find your inner pizza.” Funny how this punny instruction reminded me that finding peace comes in the in between. This is the time to lean into the discomfort. Removing the external forces, this space invites room to question, grow and reflect.

Control the controllable. You can set the timer to the recommended time, you can put all the toppings on, but once the pizza is in the oven, it’s out of your control. It’s about trusting that if it does burn, you can always order pizza in.

ready, set, action

It’s kind of funny to me that the past two months the voice that I was so excited to share on here in October has fallen silent, but the voice in my mind has grown so loud.

My journal has been filled more over the past 64 days than the past year. And yet, I’ve felt like I have nothing valuable to share. My Squarespace account is filled with unposted drafts, so unsure of what I could have to say worth reading. No new events, no new milestones, no trips, no external forces of meaning. Life has fallen still. It’s funny when nothing happens we are forced to stop and ask ourselves: what do I want to have happen?

A wave of motivation came today and it made me realize just how little I’ve felt it recently. I have been without a sense of direction, engaging in avoidance practices pushing away inevitable emotions. I’ve felt outside of my body and my anxiety has been at a place that it hasn’t in years. Today I felt relieved of the burden of this anxiety. Riding this motivation created from a meaningful conversation with someone who believes in me, I wanted to take action.

(Side note- It’s important to take stock of what your valuable traits are. What are your skills? What do you love to do? What are traits that are unique to you? Once you know this, it’s important to engage in activities that celebrate this. The skill may be quick learner- pick up a new instrument and learn some chords. The skill may be deep thinker- pick up a book that challenges your beliefs and write about it. These little things may serve as an internal source of motivation when external sources are feeling dim.)

This voice is my voice. Whether it be on a public platform or in a private journal, my authenticity comes from being honest with myself and others. There is no perfect way to approach uncertainty, trust me, I’ve tried finding it. But action is always better than indecision. I’m posting a draft from last month that I never believed was good enough to share in an attempt to serve as a metaphor for something greater. It’s about consistently showing up and taking action. No expectations, just faith.

a year

A whole year is difficult to put into a single journal entry, a one and a half minute reel or even a few resolutions. Made up of four seasons, loads of family discourse and recourse, celebrations of friends, the start of a job, the end of an education, old faces gone with new faces prominent: A year is comprised of so many different experiences. One reflection will not be able to do it justice.

However, it’s pretty crazy to think about time in the span of years. In 2022, I was lost, unhappy in my education, my environment, my body and my mind. I was freshly recovering from an eating disorder, and my life revolved around trying to find meaning outside of food. The year before in 2021, I had taken control of my life when I had dropped out of college in January. However, I lost that sense of control to my anxiety and eating disorder. This consumed the majority of my year. I was robbed of creativity due to mental struggles and my life was centered around trying to find my breath. In 2020, I heard my inner voice for the first time. I knew I was unhappy at my first college and lost my passion for performing. COVID-19 had given me the opportunity to be still in my body, inviting remembrance of what brought me joy and who I am.

This voice is what guides me today. I believe 2023 was the first year I truly felt happy. Off of any medications and birth control, I was re-introduced to myself. I visited the place I last knew the little girl unapologetically full of life, love and joy. This trip to Oregon reminded me of who I was, and who I am.

This remembrance is a daily practice, and trust me I fall off pretty easily. There were many times this year I deeply struggled with self-doubt, my nagging eating disorder, anxiety and depression. It was the first year, however, that I can confidently say that I was experiencing these symptoms rather than being a product of these disorders.

The deepest lesson I learned this past year is that perfectionism is the voice in my head that is fueled by my fear. By actively facing my fears and trying new things, I am able to pick away at that voice and prove it wrong. This year I challenged myself to actively seek discomfort, and from plunging in the ice bath, to running long distances, to texting a number that was left for me at work, I was consistently shown that the things we avoid can actually be pretty great.

Over the past 30 or so days, I turned 23, I graduated, and I welcomed in a new year. I have no plans for this upcoming year, and boy I’d say that’s pretty uncomfortable. All I can do is remind myself that I have survived this discomfort before and I can do it again. Who’s to say what is in store for 2024, all I can do is keep making steps towards my future. So, cheers to the new seasons of 2024.

23

Yesterday, my roommates and best friends gave me a wonderful opportunity for reflection on my birthday this year. They asked me what my favorite part of my twenty-second year of life was, as well as what I am looking forward to for my twenty-third.

Truthfully, I don’t think about my age all that much. But when given the opportunity to reflect on the past year, I realized just how much I’ve struggled in my twenties thus far, but also how much I have overcome.

My answer was simply put as “my favorite part of 22 was coming home.” I remember a time not that long ago where healing was my number one priority. I lived alone and was scared to come home to be by myself everyday. Reflecting on today, in my twenty-second year of life, my home is now a place that feels so safe to return to. This is one of the first times in my life, if not the first, I can confidently say I’m happy when I go home.

I feel like 22 was kind of set-up for me. I knew I’d be in Austin at least one more year through the end of undergrad, so my priority was to enjoy life outside of that. I am fortunate to have a job that I love, to live alongside the most special and supportive people, and to invest time into relationships that feed my truest self.

23 scares me. The next year will be filled with loads of question marks and endless opportunity. I don’t know where I will be come December 11, 2024, but as long as I stay true to the life I have found in 22, I know I will be okay.

It’s easy to forget about all the hard things we do. Struggling with my perfectionism continues to be a daily battle for me, but we aren’t meant to be perfect. We are meant to be real. And real life throws some major shit our ways. In my workout class today, the instructor reminded us that challenges are opportunities. Returning to the question asked by my friends, I am looking forward to the unknown opportunities that 23 will present me. I don’t need to be perfect this year, I just need to be real.

(i’m)perfect portia

an intro.

Brilliant Brooke. Magnificent Michael. Amazing Amanda. Polite Portia. Pretty Portia. Piggy Portia. Perfect Portia… Damn.

Perfect Portia?

It was around the age of 9 where I started understanding that I’m not only perceiving the world, but the world was perceiving me. How did I want to be seen, to be known? The Name Game growing up was the first opportunity in classroom to share a word that describes you. I adopted the path of arguably most resistance, and chose Perfect Portia. To me, I took it as a label that I had to prove, otherwise I could be considered a liar, and that would be bad. It was around the age of 9, I started viewing myself as good or bad.

Perfectionism serves as a protection mechanism, a way of viewing the world through fear. I would avoid any opportunity to be judged as bad, before I could judge myself. Unknowingly, this logic guided me through the majority of my life. It kept me in cycles of self doubt, diminished my inner knowing and placed me in a state of war with myself. This self-war manifested as anxiety and depression, along with other health issues, a feat I have been battling for as long as I can remember. It took me a long time to understand that my experience with anxiety and depression was something I can control, rather be controlled by.

I heard once that “the imperfect parts of us are the healing parts of us.” Anytime little Portia shut down that innate desire to try something new due to fear of imperfection, I lost a part of myself. Embracing any deemed “imperfections” invites an opportunity to tell that fearful girl that she is safe. I still challenge my perfectionist tendencies every day, however, through resources, connections, experiences, and more, I have been able to find purpose behind the imperfections. Life isn’t getting easier, but it can be more manageable, with adopting the right practices, mindsets and beliefs.

My purpose with this platform is to share some of the resources that have helped me in my journey, along with anecdotes of my own experiences. I hope this can invite conversations with yourself, within your relationships, and with the world. With good intention, strong intuition and a bit of imperfection, I believe we can move mountains.

Besides, Imperfect Portia has a better ring to it anyhow.

thank you for being here.