Loosen Up Abigail Mac -
Physically, anxiety lives in the shoulders. Several times a day, Abigail Mac is walking around with her shoulders glued to her earlobes. Stop. Take a breath. Consciously drop your shoulders two inches. Loosen your jaw. Unclench your hands. Do this until it becomes muscle memory. The View From the Other Side Here is what I wish Abigail Mac knew: People don't love you because you are perfect. They love you because you are real.
Abigail would never submit a project that is 90% done. But today, do it. Send the email with the typo. Leave the dishes in the sink overnight. The world will not end. In fact, you might realize that no one was looking at that missing 10% except you. loosen up abigail mac
And this is my open letter to her, and to anyone who sees a little bit of themselves in her story. Abigail Mac doesn't just make lists; she worships them. She believes that if she can just check off every box, she will finally feel the peace she sees in the yoga commercials. The problem is that life isn't a checklist. It’s a jazz solo. Physically, anxiety lives in the shoulders
We’ve all met her. Maybe she sits in the cubicle next to you, color-coding her sticky notes by urgency. Maybe she stares back at you from the mirror at 11:00 PM, re-writing the same sentence in a report because the font looks "slightly aggressive." Take a breath
She is the high-achiever. The over-preparer. The woman who has a contingency plan for her contingency plan. On paper, Abigail is winning. She hits every deadline, never misses a workout, and her pantry is alphabetized.
Physically, anxiety lives in the shoulders. Several times a day, Abigail Mac is walking around with her shoulders glued to her earlobes. Stop. Take a breath. Consciously drop your shoulders two inches. Loosen your jaw. Unclench your hands. Do this until it becomes muscle memory. The View From the Other Side Here is what I wish Abigail Mac knew: People don't love you because you are perfect. They love you because you are real.
Abigail would never submit a project that is 90% done. But today, do it. Send the email with the typo. Leave the dishes in the sink overnight. The world will not end. In fact, you might realize that no one was looking at that missing 10% except you.
And this is my open letter to her, and to anyone who sees a little bit of themselves in her story. Abigail Mac doesn't just make lists; she worships them. She believes that if she can just check off every box, she will finally feel the peace she sees in the yoga commercials. The problem is that life isn't a checklist. It’s a jazz solo.
We’ve all met her. Maybe she sits in the cubicle next to you, color-coding her sticky notes by urgency. Maybe she stares back at you from the mirror at 11:00 PM, re-writing the same sentence in a report because the font looks "slightly aggressive."
She is the high-achiever. The over-preparer. The woman who has a contingency plan for her contingency plan. On paper, Abigail is winning. She hits every deadline, never misses a workout, and her pantry is alphabetized.