I’m feeling heavy and sad for no particular reason. I have hit a block. Hard resistance. I feel pulled in two different directions: hell bent for glory and inert blob. I haven’t written or meditated in two days, which may be contributing factors. All of my thoughts and interactions with other people have clogged my vessel. It feels like I’ve been cursed to carry a 50-pound backpack without the ability to put it down. A slow drain on all of my energy. Beer is helping. Writing is helping.
But when I think about my disappointments and failures, it comes right back. I literally have to play my next move on repeat and drag myself from point A to point B. “Just take a shower. That’s all. Just go to the bathroom and get in the shower.” Then, “Go get a beer and sit down to write. Crack open a Stella and walk to your desk. Just do it.” I have to parent myself like I’m a little baby. If I don’t do this when I’m in one of these moods, I will sit in the same spot, mind racing, and become utterly consumed. Swallowed up in my entirety. The trick, I’ve learned, is first to become aware and then to break the cycle. It feels like the hardest thing in the world. Of course, I’ve never birthed a child or lived in extreme poverty. When I put my life into perspective, I’m a very blessed, privileged American woman. But my pain is real to me. So I have to find the balance between being ungrateful and owning my feelings.
Stella Artois bubbles over my tongue. It’s still cold. I’m not a big beer drinker and at this very moment I forget why. I breathe. I relax my shoulders. I open to all that’s flowing through me. The Buddhist notion of impermanence would suggest that this pain is only temporary. The gospel tells us that this too shall pass. After 28 years filled with confusion, joy, irresponsible choices in sexual partners, drugs & booze (and too much of both), disappointment, silver linings, hope, travel, soul stirring music, and changing seasons, I’ve come to know this truth. Today might’ve been painted in melancholy, but tomorrow could very well be painted in sunshine, elation, and penis.
Here’s to breathing through, relaxing into the moment, and having faith that some days will be pure magic.
Lots of Love,