Modern forces have imbued in our societal structure… and/or me… with high expectations of life, and how it should be. In my expecting mind, life shouldn’t be about waiting for someone to text you back on a dating app, or waiting for feedback on a report, or waiting for water to boil before pouring a hot cup of lemon water. These are every day moments for which I, unconsciously, don’t value presence. I want them to end so I can go back to something — a block on my calendar, an activity. Doing.
I observe that my conditioning dictates that…
I’m tired. Mentally.
I think we all are. This article started out with me whining. While I want to, it’s not The Way in this moment. Moaning takes energy. I don’t think this is why I’m at my keyboard.
Truthfully though, I don’t know why I’m here. At my keyboard. I wrote a letter to someone I’ve never met a few days ago, and I was just happy to write again. Maybe it was cathartic. I do like the idea of pen pals (and secretly falling in love and happily ever after but don’t tell anyone that’s my secret fantasy.)…
Day 10 — Horses and Direction
Horses because back in the saddle after missing days of writing.
Horses because grabbing the reins is a metaphor for my relationship with mind and ego. It has its own agenda but can be coralled.
Direction because as I grab the reins I believe in going forth, boldly. Direction is a gift and a choice and a privilege.
BOYHOOD KIND OF DAY
DAY WHERE YOU WANT TO SHOUT INTO THE VOID
AND HOPE THAT THERE’S AN ECHO WHICH MEANS THERE’S AN END
but i don’t think there is, there’s just space
and wheat fields, long amber grains of nothingness along which you can run your hands to grasp and feel their leathery tips crumble softly in your hands.
With the dust,
make a fire, it’s urgent —
I read so much fantasy when I was a kid. (I still consume a lot of fantasy now).
I just could never resist a hero. The Hero’s Journey is ingrained in how I perceive the world, for better or for worse.
I think I’ve tried to hide this for a while, because the world is so complex and I am not blind to the grey. Yet I still believe in goodness, plain and simple — even with its infinite logical contradictions.
I’ve never really told anyone this I don’t think, but the reason I love running (one reason) is because…
I am really interested in the voices in my head.
I am tired of the antagonistic one, and I miss the steady glowing one.
Anton the Antagonist brings up baseless negative thoughts about myself which I have to question with “is that so?” I often disagree with this voice, ’cause I’m fond of myself.
Gloria the Glowing Steady voice assures me that things will be okay and to keep my head on straight and to focus on the present moment.
I think right now a key to living with depression is to know that you’re wider than Anton. I don’t feel like I have low self-esteem. In fact, there’s a lot that I’m doing that I’m proud of.
I just miss shedding the extra weight that is my mind.
I sat for 30 minutes for the first time in a while. I had been hovering around 25/26 for a while but a full half hour seemed so elusive.
I opened my eyes twice, but I never got up.
It’s like the opposite of Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. Spider-Man always gets up.
So I’ll channel that same energy to stay seated, to try and nab just five more minutes.
Don’t get up until it’s time.