Here We Are

I'm feeling restless again. Like the bones in my body have shrunk and the skin around them has elasticized. I don't know what to do with myself. I want to go out and do things but know I would much rather be doing them with someone else. To be able to joke around with someone while we thrift or grab a quick coffee at a local café. I'm tired of being alone. It was nice for a while because I could come and go as I pleased and could set my own intentions for the day, but now it feels like something's missing. Like there's this part of me that's shrinking every day and I'm scared of losing that connection.

I guess this means I have to push past the discomfort and continue doing activities by myself, but I don't want to. I'm sick of depending on myself to come up with all the answers. Sick of hearing the same thoughts run over and over in my head. I have to wonder if they will ever stop. If I will ever find something that excites me so much that I never grow bored of it.

Because currently, I am bored with myself. I'm bored of the same routine, the same monotonous grocery shopping, the same guessing game of when I'll finally figure things out. Trial and error, of course. But how much longer? Will it hit me suddenly? Will it come with an accumulation of learning small things to create something bigger? Please just tell me what form it will take so I can stop this endless chatter. I grow tired of my complaints that only ever seem to lead me back to this place. This place where I feel desolate and utterly alone, not a friend in the world to rely upon and my own encouragement severely deficient.

Keep going and going and going. Never stop, never look back, trust the process. How can I put such faith in something that has let me down time and again?

-

I haven't been reading as much in the past couple of weeks. I felt a shift within myself and slowly distanced myself from it. I must be scared of uncovering something deep, otherwise I never would've stopped my obsession with self-help books. I truly do love reading them though. Sometimes they relate to me in a way that no other person has. It feels as though they are experiencing the same things as I. It's extremely comforting. I also like learning new things about myself. Why I think the way I do and new ways to bring inspiration into my life. It's like peeling back a whole new layer of myself, one that's been left undiscovered by my conscious mind.

It can get to be too much. When you know you're on the precipice of something great and all you can do is pull yourself back from it. Fear of success is what you'd call it. A paradox all in itself. Why would you ever want to stop yourself from greatness? This is a question I ask myself often. I do not yet know why I'm holding myself back. Or maybe I do but just don't want to admit it to myself.

-

Maybe today let's talk a little bit about my childhood.

As a kid, I never really knew what I wanted to be. Everyone around me wanted to be teachers, or doctors, or athletes, but I never felt so inclined as any of them. There were just too many options to choose from. How was I supposed to know what I wanted to do for the rest of my life? It vexed me that they had already figured that part out.

I took a careers course in high school. It was supposed to teach us about creating resumes and cover letters and finding what career best suited our interests. As most high school courses go, I learned none of this. The teacher was not trained to be teaching this subject matter and failed to convey anything of importance to my class. It could have provided us with insight into the workforce and prepared us for many challenges in the future, but it was an opportunity squandered.

I think I got more use out of my grade 12 English lit class. The teacher I had was awesome and she encouraged us to push our writing in all aspects. I found that this was the one class that I actively pushed myself to be excellent in. Of course I tried in all of my others, but something about this one felt special to me. It gave me the space to tap into creativity and let my ideas flow. Even though most of the time we were analyzing Shakespeare or doing some asinine group project, I still enjoyed it. I liked seeing what I could make up on the spot then improvise from there out. If I didn't have a particular stance on something, I would make up something obscure and run with it. It usually worked out for me in terms of grades.

Flying by the seam of my pants worked for me a lot.

Procrastinating goes hand in hand with this.

I would put off completing, or even starting, assignments until the day it was due. This forced me to finish everything in one day, speeding up the drafting process and often typing up the whole thing in one go. I would edit it after, but I honestly came up with some pretty good stuff with this janky method.

The pressure was actually helpful for me. It made me take a leap and start writing stuff down as it popped into my head. This wasn't entirely beneficial when I had huge research projects, but I always made it work.

-

Now that I can write for myself and discuss anything that I wish, I try to employ the same method. Sit myself down in front of my laptop and just go for it. Let the words guide me as they come into my head and follow the thread wherever it wants to lead.

If only I could apply this to finding my purpose.

But I've never really given it this perspective before. To look at it as fully focusing on this one task and not stopping until I complete it. I write myself off before the going gets good. More patience is required, something I'm still in the process of mastering.

-

I can feel myself slowly emerging from my depressive state. I always know when I start singing along with my music in the car. I get this feeling of peace fill me as the breeze rustles my hair. I take in the sights and sounds, inhale richly through my nose and exhale with euphoric release. That's when I know I'm getting better. I start to appreciate the little things again. I rediscover the little bits that bring me joy and make me feel lighter.

Music is just such a gateway to my soul. My taste is quite eclectic. I can go from listening to Mindless Indulgence to Tima Belorusskih to Joy Crookes. Anything goes with me, except country, I have to draw the line there. I can listen to it from time to time, but never quite willingly.

I wrote this a while ago, maybe it will give you some insight into my mind:

Music is so beautiful. It finds you and resonates exactly the way you need it to. The ebbs and flows washing over your soul and calming your mind. Raising goosebumps in the riffs, your heart pounding within your ribcage. The anticipation of the next note trilling your limbs. It is peace and unease and serenity and discovery and anguish and heartache and rebirth. Untangling the disaster in your brain and releasing it in waves of emotion so powerful you can only pause to take it all in. It is different for us all. That is the essence of the musical enigma.

I'd say that about sums up my experience. I find this state of ultimate peace and let myself be down for the ride. It's exquisite; I wouldn't trade it for anything.

-

I'm proud to say I've gone two weeks without ciggies. It's been really hard. I itch for the feeling of a cigarette between my fingers and the jilted inhale that comes with it. That kick I get and the regret of the ashy aftertaste. I miss the whole experience. But alas, I continue without them. I'm still working on kicking vaping as well, but for now I won't be so harsh as to cut it out completely. Cold turkey doesn't exactly work for me so I'm trying to figure out what will. So long as it's in front of me, I really can't stop myself. I need to work on looking at it then redirecting my focus to something more positive.

This has actually worked with ciggies for me. I keep one in my room where I can always see it and one in my car. At first I just had the one in my room because I felt it would be easy to say no when in the comfort of my room. But being in the car is a whole other story. That's where I would usually smoke, on my way to work, getting groceries, going to Tim's. If it was there, I would light one up. It didn't matter if I felt like having one or not.

After a week of not smoking any, I decided to take my second last smoke and put it in my car. I figured that this would be the ultimate test of my willpower. I can't lie, that first day was hard. I tried negotiating with myself, saying that it was only one and it didn't matter. But I knew that one would turn into two, then three, then buying a new pack every third day. I saw myself spiralling back into addiction. So I've stayed strong. Making intense eye contact with it as soon as I get into the car and when I'm feeling particularly stressed. That's what it provides for me: escapism. I can mull over my emotions or I can take a hit and focus on finishing it. It's really not just the nicotine, it's the fact that it gives me something to focus on beyond what's happening in the present. It fills my mind with its wispy tendrils and anything else is inconsequential.

Still, every time that I see someone smoking I get the craving again. It's almost instant. I hope that it will fade with time and it will soon be a random fact about myself that I used to smoke for a year or so. I'll get there eventually, I just have to keep on putting the work in.

-

I think we've reached the end for now. Nothing else is jumping into my mind that I wish to share. There will be more to come, that's for sure.

Continue working on your growth and don't let anyone or anything stand in your way, especially yourself. Be kind with your inner thoughts and learn to move on from the things that keep dragging you behind.

I believe in you.