Hi folks,
You awake? What are you doing? Are you writing? Are you writing? You’d better be writing.
I am writing. My most effective escape. What makes writing difficult and addictive is that truth reveals itself. It shits all over your readiness and your timeline. Your choice becomes clear. Do the right thing and make yourself proud. Or…
When you get cornered by yourself, things get real – fast. You are responsible for your life, your happiness, your health, and your relationships. Reassuring and cruel. Accumulative effort in either direction gets you here today. Sure – other variables matter, luck, DNA, perhaps not as much as you think they are, if you are able to read these words on your smart phone/tablet/computer. I know you know this already. I am repeating for myself.
This year, I set no goals. Nine months in, I noticed that I am happier, in spite of my depression. I am more present. I feel more relaxed. I have a better relationship with myself. It is not all rainbows. I have a tinge of suspicion that I am not doing my future self any favors. I am not filling my day with activities that’s good for me in the long run. Like exercises. Like go to bed at a reasonable time.
I can argue that it is more important to stay alive than having a regular rest to rise schedule. I did argue that. But, human desires have no bottom. I expect more from myself. Now that I am alive. I want more than simply being alive. Reasonable. The tricky thing is that I am actively choosing not to do what’s good for me. In the language of self help, I am giving in to the resistance. My inner critic has lost its power. My medication is working and it is dulling out my drive. Being driven is a part of my identity. It helped me. It made me feel strong.
Have you experienced this with your medication? Your personality malfunctions. It is not that the drive is not there. It is. You just don’t know how to turn it on. The wiring changed. The medication makes you stay alive in a not-you form. Maybe only you notice that something is off. Your friends and family are just happy you are doing normal human shit again. They love you and want you around. You want to be around them too. I don’t have answers. I love my drive and my fire. And I want to stay alive. Can I have them both? Is that too much to ask for?
Let’s assume it isn’t too much to ask for. What can I do? Old ways to motivate myself no longer works. I need to experiment with new approaches. Do you have suggestions?
Let’s assume it is too much to ask for. How do I live with this self? How do I mother her? I notice a sense of grief rising. I miss myself. I obviously need your suggestion and help to find new wiring to turn on my fire. Help. My kind friends, quirky humans, and sensitive souls, how do you build a new self sans your favorite part of your old self? How do you know whether you need to keep trying different things or simply give up? It is a lot I am asking from you. I insist on asking.
The universe, I demand answers (that I want). My best attempt at staying (in)sane is to become a healthy and happy fool.
I planned to write about the stray dog I am falling in love with. See where we landed. Plans are only useful maps. Pay attention to the soil under your feet and adjust accordingly.
Thanks for getting through to the end. Have I confused you enough? Welcome to my mad house of a head. Gems. Gems. Take what you find. Finders. Keepers. Something like that.
Love,
Xiaoyu
