Writing My Way to Clarity Again

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I don’t want to write.

Everything feels like too much and I’m tired of thinking. Tired of feeling. Putting the words on the page only makes it all more real. Now I have to deal with it. I have to DO something. When it’s trapped in my head, I can just numb and hide and let the bad feelings wrap around me. I wallow in the shittiness of it all.

Putting my fingers on my keys or calling a friend or taking an action snaps me out of it - so why do I avoid doing these things?

What is that part of me that wants me to stay sad? What purpose is she serving in my life? Could it be true that I don’t actually want to be happy? Or that I don’t deserve it? Why do I take myself so damned seriously?

I crave joy and peace. I crave simplicity. I crave laughter and connection. But my behavior when things get hard brings me the opposite results. I feel bad, which causes me to retreat and hide, which makes me feel more isolated and more anxious and more sad, which causes me to retreat more. And then, every so often, I somehow snap myself out of it (usually through the help of someone else) and head back towards the light. And in those moments, I always think, “It’s going to be different this time. I’ve really changed. I am a joyful person.” And every time, it doesn’t last.

Maybe the hard part is the impermanence of joy and peace - Having my expectations dashed that the feeling of “being ok” never lasts.

If I know it’s not going to last - it can’t last - how does that change things? It means that the joyful, peaceful life I crave isn’t a destination that I’ll hopefully somehow arrive at. It means it’s a temporary emotion. One that will come and go throughout my days. I can enjoy it while it’s there and perhaps strengthen the muscle of cultivating it more often, but I don’t need to be attached to it. I don’t need to STRIVE SO DAMNED HARD TO GET TO THE FINISH LINE.

The promise of eventual enlightenment just stresses me out. Time to reframe.