This morning I woke up with a tightness in my chest.

I had blocked off the entire day to write, but felt overcome with anxiety and the urge to control. My mind raced with things I could (should!) be doing: organize the pantry, run errands, reply to outstanding emails, figure out a way to streamline my DropBox, Google photos and external hard drive, wash our sheets, eat only vegetables, do a hard workout, figure out some of the big decisions hanging over Chris and my heads...

My mind raced with tasks and rules I could be using to earn my keep today. 

I was overcome with anxiety about the way we're living in between a lot of seasons. After such a fun, playful weekend, I felt overwhelmed by the urge to eat healthily and exercise hard. I struggled to find the voice inside my own head that can speak back to anxiety. 

I felt like I was playing whack-a-mole as I quickly tried to write down task after task, convincing myself that a long enough list would help me button up this day, this season, this life. 

I tried to find stillness as I sat in our front room, reminding myself: I am enough. I do enough. I have enough time. I will get it all done. And my worth is not contingent upon accomplishing these tasks. 

I reminded myself that accomplishing tasks and eating healthily do not make me more or less worthy. They do not give me more or less control of this life. A checked-off-to-do-list or super hard workout do not dictate my worth or the value of my day.

Every day I am enough, just because I exist. 

Why am I sharing this? Because this morning, as I processed through my own anxiety and enough-ness, I kept thinking: I don't ever want people to think I have it all figured out. Social media and blogs have this way of convincing us that everyone else is so buttoned up and, without even realizing it, we are drawing tiny comparisons to our own lives. 

I want to live an open-hand life. I want to be honest enough to tell you, in this space and in my real life, that I'm still figuring things out and always will be. Sometimes I don't believe I am enough. Sometimes I still struggle with food rules and perceiving that I am in control with exercise and to do lists. Sometimes I an anxious about the unknown. 

I don't have a foolproof solution for these mornings. Oftentimes quiet time works. Sometimes writing does. Every now and then I'm so overcome by the urge that I give in and spend the morning chasing my own worth like a dog chasing its tail.

It would be easy to sit here and write these posts and pretend I don't struggle with the things I am discussing. It would be easy to act like that was a 25-year-old-Whitney thing. Sometimes people ask me if I feel pressure to have answers or things figured out when I coach clients. My response is always a resounding no. Because, the truth is, in the end, I think we're all looking for a listening ear and a simple me too. I think we all take the deepest comfort in knowing and believing that we're all in this together. Figuring it out slowly, one day at a time, side by side.