Unsticking From Commotion

Unsticking From Commotion

I feel so stuck. My writing is stuck. My life is stuck, and in an out-of-control cyclone at the same time.

I'm in a hurry, but to nowhere.

I'm regressing back into some unfortunate habits that make me feel satisfied in the moment, but much worse about everything in the long run. I'm eating more sugar, practicing less yoga, grabbing more beers, writing and reading less, just burying my troubles in places they can't heal properly.

But sometimes it's so hard to keep going, and to keep going well. It's one thing for me to let my ambition and enthusiasm drive me forward and to feel good about it, but to skirt by performing the bare minimum of the new important lifestyle I've chosen is even more exhausting than reaching for every dream I have.

But I feel stuck down this path of laziness and crumbling habits. I didn't even write this blog post until this evening, on a Monday, hours after I'm normally ready to hit Publish.

I often call myself lazy when what I really mean is imperfect. Any amount of imperfection feels like a slippery slope into the old me, before I began my spiritual journey, started meditating, practicing awareness, discovering my own values, developing greater compassion, working toward accepting my authentic self, and boldly writing.

And even though it was challenging to jump on here today, I try to write at least something for myself once a week. I'm not a put-together person when I don't write. I'm a pouting sneering emotional uber-lost mess, in fact.

But writing is harder now than it has been in a long time (I'm sure you've noticed). This always happens when shit gets too hard, or too personal, or too someone-else's-business for me to write about. I've got journals, notebooks, post-its, napkins, and buckets of pens stashed everywhere I go, but my normal writing routine now feels strenuous.

I think that for a while I need to do a lot of mental work. If nothing else, I need to allow meditation to be a part of my life again, a protest to the slumping being hiding in fear of life's demons inside me. I need to stop scrambling to build concrete walls between myself and what I'm going through. I need to learn to accept self-love, so that I can better connect to and love others.

Because no matter how well I do sliding my awareness into the present moment, I don't feel like I know what to do once I get there. I am stuck trying to figure out my life every minute, always wondering Am I doing this right? Is this how I am supposed to get happy? so much that I often can't transition out of this cycle of thought.

I let a loop of enigmatic questions define my reality. I spend so much time thinking about life that I forget to live it.

But now I can look forward to a new journey, where I will work toward not working, toward making space, and not chasing after happiness when I know it is only held within me.

This may mean more writing, or less, more travel, or more nights at home, but whatever it means, I will learn to let it bring me to life.