Hear ye, hear ye. When I tell you the writer’s block is blockin’ this month, I mean it feels like moving cinder blocks around in my brain. I wrote an entire post before this one, read it and thought, that’s literally NOT what I meant.
It’s been a challenge to get my words through my fingers and onto the screen, mostly because I’m not really sure what I have to say. Or why you’d want to read it. Or if there’s even a point.
This is where the train derails. I get dark and depressed when I don’t actually feel that way at all. Am I at a major identity crossroads? Confused, a little lost and with almost no idea of what’s next? Sure. But I’m really not that sad about it.
Frustrated? Sure! Wondering what and why? Hell yeah! But allowing myself to go full pit of despair, I’ll be in a bath catastrophizing til Spring? No thank you. I have, however, as a result of all this paralyzing melodramatic inner chatter, reached a decision.
I quit.
I resign. I retire. I am officially finished with trying to figure out what I should be doing. How I can get ahead. What my gifts to the world are. How I’ll ever afford the skincare I desire let alone a whole house. I am done with worry. Enough is enough.
It is winter and I am cold. It is dark at 5pm. Nature has quit and so shall I. These cement walls surrounding my mind will have to wait for an inspiration bomb to blow them apart. I’m focusing on walking, exercising, cooking healthy food and getting my ass back into my favorite jeans. Because that is something I can do.
I’ve seen a lot of Winter Arc content this year. A wellness trend aimed at using the three months of winter to get your ass in gear. I feel medium about it. A little because I obviously thought of it first but also because pushing too hard when not even the sun is willing to put in the work sounds miserable. But that’s the equilibrium I’ve been teetering to find since I left my job as a server.
How hard is too hard? Where is the line between self-coddling and excuses vs going a little harder because I know that drive will pay off come spring. I suppose that’s what I’m using the dark months to ponder. I quit trying to get to what’s next, I accept self discovery, boundaries and balance right now.
In the middle of a journey, the depths of the forest, the darkest parts feel endless. Time moves so slowly. A clearing seems infinitely far off. It’s only in retrospect (and all of life is basically retrospect) that we can reflect on how fast the years fly. I think about the day my favorite jeans will be loose again, how that seems forever away now, how soon it will feel like tomorrow.
I like romanticizing the down times of life. The magic darks, dark nights of the soul, darkest before the dawn chapters. I’m always trying to live in the nostalgia of the present. Creating memories as I go lest this era turn out to be the favorite of my lifetime.
At some point, this winter will be only a montage in the back of my mind. That time I took to focus on nothing else but my self and my physical well-being. The dark before the sun came back out and things began to bloom again. When I let go of trying to be a good writer and just kept writing.
Until then, I won’t give up on forcing myself to sit in front of this keyboard. It’s a push that always feels worth it once I’ve done it. The same way an early morning workout does. There will come a day when I look back with fondness on this in-between period and thank myself for pushing a little harder than I think want to right now.
There’s relief in surrender. Getting out of my head, releasing the need to know what comes next. I’m sitting here writing to you at a table that now holds our second tiny Christmas tree in this apartment, Larry 2. It’s pitch black dark out and has been for an hour. I took 8,000 steps today when I was sure I’d taken over 11k. I’d worry more about it if I hadn’t decided I quit that.
EATING
Okay, this is going to be very polarizing but my brother and sister-in-law made creamed onions for Thanksgiving and when I tell you they totally rocked my world…I’ve still not recovered.
WATCHING
This video of my nephew taking his first steps and being so proud of himself that I’ve watched quite literally 1,000 times.
DOING
I’m a broken record but does everyone realize HOW FUCKING LONG IT TAKES TO GET IN 10,000 steps??? Because it’s at least an hour and a half…and I’m doing it everyday goddamnit.
I hope everyone is as cozy as can be. I’m wrapping up in my fluffy robe with a hood that has ears on it and pretending like I’m a preteen.
What’s on your holiday movie list? I think since I heard word of the forthcoming Bridget Jones 4 (literally NO) I’ve been wanting to do a rewatch of the first one.
I’m sending you all my love and holiday cheer. Talk to you next week.
YES. I feel like you and I have been having the same existential crisis for the past 20 years, haha. What's the best thing for me to do to live the life I'm supposed to? What's going to be the magic puzzle piece that finally puts my life on a track that leads to some kind of security or the perceived safety that others around me seemingly have obtained? Without losing my SELF???? Tell me!!!!!
Perfect post, analysis and game plan. As we discussed in text, to me writer's block must be how a mouse feels when its stuck on one of those glue traps. Just crush my skull, but please don’t do this to me! At once you realize who actually set the trap...