At times I feel so overwhelmed - trying to be perfect in every aspect of societal expectations. Working out, eating healthy, checking my credit score, staying on top of every day technological advances, the list spirals on into infinity. It is utterly exhausting, draining what little energy I have left each day. I ponder the so called ‘advances’ we’ve made. While our modern conveniences have afforded us so many luxuries and shortcuts, are we actually just selling ourselves short?
I’m trying to be more mindful of my choices, my actions, my words. I want to find a way to still enjoy the modern way of living, while incorporating a more relaxed and simpler way of greeting my daily approach to life. Trying to breathe in a calming fashion, letting go of unfounded fears and phobias - learning to enjoy living again. It’s been a lifetime ago that my life was something I was contented with. Oddly enough, this was when I was broke - in the financial sense. I was rich in friendships and ‘extracurricular activities’. You know, those things that make you more rounded on your resume, the things they encourage you do while in college to make you a glowing candidate at future job interviews. I had all of those things, along with a heaping side of hopes & dreams to fuel my days. I enjoyed waking to the fresh start of a new day, ripe with possibility.
These days my life is filled with drudgery and monotonous routine. Life is passing me by as I become mired in the ‘routine’. Is this what adulthood means? To lose yourself, your dreams - to the blur that we call ‘life’ in our culture? My question is: How do I undo all the damage I’ve done? It’s not like dropping a bad habit and knowing your body will heal itself. I’m speaking of years of societal conditioning that has left me in a stupor. How do I break this hold I have unwittingly placed upon myself? My only answer, my only insight is this: I must regain my passion. I must, simply must rekindle my lust, my love of writing. I believe it is my only saving grace. If I don’t grab onto that lifesaver now, I will surely drown in the sea of depression I’ve been floating along in.
I sometimes glimpse the ghost of my younger self, the dreamer I once was. It is a bittersweet thing, to recall yourself in a younger light. When life held the possibility of endless sublime dreams, when every conversation sparked potential life changing ideas, and nothing seemed impossible. But then life intervenes - friends move on, they move away, they move forward. Careers and goals change, and nights sitting around drinking wine and smoking cigarettes in the middle of a shitty apartment becomes a thing of capricious youth. The big house, picket fence and decimal point numbers of the American dream takes precedence. And while I have found myself lusting for the same material possessions and status that seem the norm to strive for, the more stressed and unhappy I find myself. Because I’m caught up in the machine, I’ve trapped myself, forced my square self into a round opening. We all know how that scene goes.
Time flows by like a river, I find myself wading along while everyone else is riding the current. I blink, and a month is gone. I blink twice and a year has disappeared. Everyone else is now barely in view, yet I am still plodding along, trying to stay in one place. This is an exhausting and futile exercise, yet I find myself struggling against the current regardless.
I am a time traveler, for I am constantly in the past and the future. It is rare to find me in the present, the place where past and future should collide, if you think about it. I am unable to immerse myself in the here and now, so I sojourn between what has been and what could be. I find no solutions at either juncture. Some days life seems like more of a burden than I care to contend with. I have no rational explanation for this, for certainly I don’t lead an excruciating or horrific existence. I’ve not had a troubling youth, or any other mental traumas that would cause such upheaval. It is a rather mundane life, peppered with occasional celebratory moments. Why I am so bereft?
I am frustrated with my shortcomings - the things that others believe hinder the enrichment of my delightfully humdrum existence. For example, travel. Apparently, without travel, one cannot achieve a state of completeness. Such modern forms of moving from point A to point B bring about heart palpitations and a shortness of breath upon my contemplation. Yet, I feel as though I live only a shell of a life because I no longer have the desire to traipse far and wide across the expanse of the planet. Or, so the guilt of others leads me to believe. Is there something that I could glean, some knowledge, that would help me understand the secret of life? Could that be why my travel weary friends continue on? Are they searching for that answer, or quite possibly just following a primal urge to move in search of better conditions? {Not to say that we don’t have wonderful climate controlled conditions in which we reside and grow our sustenance now, to be clear.} Could it be a wanderlust simply inspired by their own sense of boredom? I’ve decided that I’m not falling victim to the heavy guilt trips that come my way. While I may prattle on about solitude encroaching on my fragile state of mind, I don’t feel that forcing myself into uncomfortable situations is the all encompassing solution to my so called problems.
~This is merely a mental purge of sorts to help me deal with some overbearing and heavy emotions I have been desperately trying to come to terms with. Please just take these for what they are, simply words to ease my troubled mind.~
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