..and it’s sitting on me like a 50lb weight. A 50lb weight that is crushing my spirit and shaking my sense of worthiness. A 50lb weight that’s making it hard to breathe, and at the same time giving me the motivation to get strong enough to lift it off.
I feel depleted, uninspired in the day to day grind, and overwhelmed with the mundane. For example, this week I was all ready to go to dance (even in the building!) and ended up going home instead.
My go-to has been to blame myself for the fact that I’m too tired or for not just sucking it up and “As-If”ing (doing it anyway). It’s been difficult to not beat myself up for this – I mean I KNOW I love to write, so why do I keep failing at getting words down?? Over the last few days I’ve been trying to have some self compassion and look at other reasons (aside from personal failure) of why my ‘happy things’ are feeling more like laundry.
Though I am hesitant to say my plate is ‘full’ because I instantly go to comparing and truly understand that not having children is a big bonus when it comes to having my own time, the reality is that I do feel overwhelmed with the portions that are filling up my plate. On further inspection, I have found that it’s not so much the amount of things on my plate, but the fact that most of the bigger portions are draining or unfulfilling to me at this time. It’s like I have a plate with lots of small desserts on it now, but that massive hunk of broccoli is taking up all the space. And as the rule goes, “you have to eat your veggies before getting dessert..so by the time I’m done with my vegetables I have no room left for the yummy stuff! Writing is like a chocolate chip cookie; usually enjoyable and satisfying, yet on a full stomach seems repulsive.
It’s not okay with me that I’m too tired and depleted from the rest of my life that I don’t have the energy or desire to pursue those activities that fulfill me. This uncomfortable, crushing, unsettling feeling that is leaving me exhausted yet restless reminds me of Dr. Wilson’s description of the necessary distress that propels us along the “wish, want, commit” continuum for making changes (http://www.inspiredlivingmedical.com/start-at-the-end/). I suppose that means these are growing pains.
Making it useful. In the grand scheme of things I’ve actually been feeling hopeful, inspired, and excited about the possibility of what life could hold. I’m getting serious about designing the life I truly want, and figuring out how to make the real-life changes that will allow that dream to be a reality. In this sense the weight is motivating. I listened to “The Four Hour Workweek” on my drive to New Brunswick this weekend and I’ve been actively doing the exercises and building my momentum for change.
Something is wrong with my life, and it’s not me. It’s not that I all of a sudden hate to write or dance, that my gratitude button is broken, or that I lack the skills to cope with life without scowling. I can feel the weight that’s there, and I’m determined to use the pain to get strong enough to take it off. I can already imagine the overwhelming relief of my first breath of freedom.