Sunday, June 02, 2013

Buck Up and Try

I've been doing a lot less soul-searching than I normally do. Sometimes you find yourself in a phase of life where things just aren't where or what you want them to be. The thought of that might lead you to believe you would be soul-searching more than ever, but in reality it's likely you will wake up in the morning and lay in your bed thinking if you don't move, you won't have to go to work. Eventually the clock progresses to a point you can't deny, and you pry yourself from your bed and throw on something that sort of matches from the clothes pile, plod up the stairs and eat a piece of bread, get in the car and off you go.

I've found this phase is accompanied by this sort of vicious cycle: everything is so mediocre that by the time all the mediocrity is fulfilled for the day, the exciting stuff seems beyond your boredom-induced exhaustion. That may sound incredibly melancholy, but if you've ever been there you completely understand and feel for where I'm at.

This is my phase of life. I'm yearning for more, but find myself so exhausted from the current mundane and futile challenges, that sometimes I have to tell myself to buck up and do the things I love. How bizarre is that? The things that give life start to seem out of reach of my energy levels, because I have to put what I do have into things just to get by. (So if I blew off your party, or performance, or get-together, I'm sorry...I probably felt too tired that day.)

Things like riding my bike, writing, photographing, or socializing get put on the back-burner by an overwhelming desire to just...watch TV; for my brain to go into auto-pilot and put off the over-thought that I'm so disgustingly-prone to.

On the other hand of finding myself quick to excuse a blow-off, I also find that if I drag myself out, or get on my bike and go, or get that cup of coffee with my journal in hand, I sink right back into the life that it gives me. It's a deception, and I guess in a way - though I'm writing this to convince myself - I'm writing this to convince others: when something you love doesn't feel worth it, try anyway. I can almost promise you won't regret it.