freedom is grey.

(~5 minute read)

Thursday, April 23rd. It’s 11 AM (-iiisssshhhhh). 

My tense feet are pacing back and forth across my teeny tiny living room. 

But not one of those, “I have game time decisions, what do I do?” paces. More like, 

“I can’t stand the vIBe in this apartment, but I need to get to work” paces. 

I was flustered with my demand to make my work day look like “work”. I wanted to inspire productivity by making it “look” like… well, productive. 

Upright. 

Sitting in a chair. 

Legs crossed at a table. 

Shoes on.

But b*tch, it just wasn’t workin’. 

After kicking and screaming it out (metaphorically of course), I paused. 

“Wait, what the f*ck do I reeeeaaalllllyyyyy need to get done today?” 

After carefully examining monday.com with all of my neatly organized tasks in order of priority (because I’m a #perfectionist), I realized I have no calls and everything I need to get done is a light lift. 

“Aha! So you caaaaan get sh*t done somewhere else! How about grabbing your laptop, portable charger, a blanky, and heading to your favorite park?”

And then the real mind game began… 

“How DARE you!? Who do you think you are? Carrie Bradshaw!?!?! Her white a**? Maybe. You? Never! Not you!” 

I stopped myself in my tracks. 

“Ahhht ahht ahht!” I say back in reply to my thought.

Then took a big a** inhale. And exhaled, 

“I deserve to romanticize my life. After all, I only have one.” 

So before even letting myself think about how it would feel to sit and think about how this would work (recovering chronic overthinkers, do you hear me?), I move my feet. 

Portable charger? ✓

Laptop? ✓

Blanket? ✓

Water bottle? ✓

“Let’s go before you start thinking about it b*tch.” 

Next thing you know, I’m laying out in a splay of sunshine at my favorite park. Crystal clear view of the Griffith Observatory. I’m nestled under a cool bed of shade. Toes are oooowwwwwtttt and sprawled across the luscious grass, with juuuuuuust the right amount of sunshine hitting my calves.

I started to feel the pre-productivity nerves and anxiety, so I settled myself with another pause and one deep breath. Then, I got to workin’. 

About 1-hour into my work, I finally get to the fun stuff. Writing material for my email list and bad girl gang Instagram channel. As I’m reviewing quotes and writings for inspiration, it hits me like a gust of wind. 

“Girl, you are doing WORK! You’re getting sh*t done! … Hmm, maybe you can live a romantic life…”

I felt free. 

My nervous system was moving… slow.

My ideas? Flowing seamlessly. 

“But b*tch, we’ve already assigned the park as a place of relaxation and presence. It can never be for anything else. Ever! It is forbidden that you like working here.” 

As my therapist likes to say, “yes! Good job Gabi’s body!” It’s protecting me. Trying to get me to survive.

My infamous demand that my work should look uptight as f*ck was threatened. 

Now, instead of demanding that I go back to uptight as f*ck work day at the kitchen table with my shoes on (also, the f*ck? I live here), I relaxed into the idea that this middle ground works. 

A b*tch can work in the park one day. And tomorrow I can come back to relax. Or both! 

Mmmmm, I think this is… grey? That area between black and white everyone is always yappin’ about.

As a recovering rigid, perfectionist who defaults to black and white thinking, this was HUGE. 

I don’t want to survive.

I want to live. 

And not like live my dreams and aspirations and sh*t. (Well, those too. Duh.)

But I mean, live one day at a time. 

A standard day. 

And rest in the care of a Higher Power while doing it.

Take a 20-minute nature walk during my lunch time and remember the animals. 

Spontaneously ask a friend for ice cream on a weeknight and remember the taste of the flavor.

Or feel the tears streaming down my cheek because I belly laughed so hard at a TikTok. 

You get me?

Last Thursday, I found freedom in the grey.

Freedom is not rigid. 

It dances. 

It sways. 

It blends. And bends.

It changes with the changes. 

It’s a state of being. 

My hope for anyone who reads this is that you hear a little piece inside of you who wants grey. Who wants to get some work done at the beach. Or spend their free time at the library. Because you deserve it. 

We deserve it.  

With gratitude,

gg