03.03.15 - Checking the Box

March 3, 2015
 
I’m going through a lot of internal landscape change right now. It’s always awkward when that happens… level lands that I once trod through daily suddenly become treacherous pathways that I traverse with care — and paths that I used to avoid suddenly become supply life lines.
The main upheaval today was caused by a thought this morning - that if I have time to watch thirty minutes of anime every night, then I have time to write thirty minutes every night.
… that I grew up thinking and believing that I had talent… but that talent means nothing if you do nothing with it.
… that hard work is as important (if not more important) than talent - because if you have talent and you never work it, it never becomes anything… whereas with hard work - you might be able to take nothing and make something.
Even if it’s a long shot, at least it has potential… but doing nothing with talent has a guaranteed empty future.

There’s a thousand reasons why I could argue with that statement that if I have time to watch t.v. then I have time to write… but I think today I am done giving them…
Maybe I’m just saying this because I’m hoping that it will keep my commitment steadier than a week… or two weeks… before it dies (which is what typically happens)… but at least now that I’ve said it - it’s there and it’s something that has been breathed into existence - where before maybe I could’ve ignored it.

There’s a lot of change going everywhere in my life - and so because it is on my mind and I’m not sure what else to write about - that’s what I’m going to write about.

I think when most people look at my life they see a pretty busy schedule… at least - I feel like I have a pretty busy life, but now I’m beginning to wonder if “busy” is a perspective… or maybe a state of mind? Or perhaps even a personality?
Typically my week has looked like this: working most days Monday through Friday - and in the evenings Monday is catch up from the weekend or cooking, Tuesday is teaching swing dancing, Wednesday is pottery, Thursday is Bible study, Friday night through Sunday is going to church, grocery shopping, cooking for the week, cleaning, and hanging out with people - with some time for vegging out. Late evenings are also reserved for vegging and shoving in time for the various volunteering things that I do: preparing for leading Bible study, working on Facebook pages, writing up newsletter type things, trying to plan ahead…

I don’t know what most people do with their time or their evenings - but I feel like they’re probably about as busy as that… or maybe less or more- but it always just seems that I am busier (always) than I’d like to be…

But underneath all of that I feel like it’s because it takes such monumental effort for me to go do anything at all.

My basic underlying instinct for all of life is to hide away. If I could stay buried in blankets and get up to take baths and then eat and then curl back into bed: to “live” my life through shows and through books - and to sleep - that’s probably what my existence would actually look like.
If I could do essentially do nothing - and have no responsibility - that is probably what my underlying base personality would actually be.

It takes effort to get out of bed. To go to work. To care.

If I didn’t have to choose… that would be the choice I would make.


What makes me get out of bed? What makes me care?
The realization that I would actually be utterly miserable and hate myself if that were my life… even if it is what my most basic personality wants.
It’s weird to know that getting what I want would make me miserable in life.
How do I know that it would make me miserable in life?
Other than the fact that I really honestly don’t think it’s physically sustainable for me to have that kind of life - I think I realize I’d be miserable because it’s because it’s hardest for me to let myself do any of that “vegging” without feeling like I need to have earned it… or to even accept that is my base personality without a sense of guilt. As though I just “ought to” care. As though it shouldn’t take effort for me to… or at least… that I should want to put forth the effort to live life because life is there to live.

And there’s really so much life to live.
As much life as you are willing to put effort forth to live…

And I sometimes wonder how some people have so much effort to live - when it’s all I can muster sometimes to care enough to get up - get bathed - look decent - do well at work - let alone show up marginally prepared for the areas I lead - poorly prepared for the events that I don’t lead - and live some kind of actual “life” outside of a basic survival routine.

I feel like I hurtle along this life mostly haphazardly doing my best - and failing a good majority of the time in living up to all the potential that life holds for me.


Maybe most people feel that way… I just always wish that I was making more out of the potential there is in life… and that I wish I would even want to try harder.


Here’s the thing - I know I try pretty hard… and I think most people looking at my life could say it isn’t a failure, even if it may or may not rate on the level of a success (there are a few of those brightly optimistic people in life who would tell me it’s a stellar success) - but I know that for me I wish for so much more out of myself and out of my life - and yet find that I want so little to do the work and effort to get it there.

In a lot of areas in my life I have been feeling the load of that pushback so much more.

The desire to fold my hand - throw down the towel - give up in what little I feel like I am doing or progressing in - and just put my head down and let it all just go to shit and stop caring.
Why not?
Why bother?
I just want to quit.

Quit trying so hard.
Quit trying so. damn. hard. at life.

And things are changing instead.



I feel like I keep hitting these blocks - where once things flowed freely it becomes harder to put down every word… to believe in every effort enough to even try…
I want things to be easier.
I want to rest.

Ten more minutes of my thirty minute sentence. I’m watching the clock like I do on those last hours of work and battling that desire to let my eyelids droop and my head hit the pillow. To wrap up with the blanket and let the last ten minutes pass me by. I have earned at least ten minutes of rest, haven’t I?

This is the struggle on a micro level - the struggle every step of the way. When I am already tired… when things don’t feel like they are easily falling into place… when it seems like no one else is doing this so why I am I forcing myself to? To hold myself to this discipline of pushing on… carrying on… keeping commitments… to continue trying my best - in the face of self-failure, in the face of general failure, in the face of potential-failure.

Eight more minutes of thirty minutes.

The hardest part is believing in the words enough to say them - even if they may be meaningless… even if they are a waste.
And I hate waste.

I hate wasted time - and wasted words - and wasted money. I hate wasted lives and wasted talent and wasted opportunities. I hate waste in myself - and the fact that waste in my life causes wasted and misplaced effort in judging other people’s waste.

Five more minutes.

Pushing past the desire to close my eyes - and the reoccurring thought of “but who is really, REALLY going to care? Come on Whitney… who is really going to care?”

And maybe this is wasted introspection. Maybe I’m abnormally self-absorbed… I definitely can’t think of why anyone would care to read something so hell-bent on self-analyzation… This is typical of my mind: to check itself, double back, re-check, and question everything it had stated - evaluate whether it was worth saying at all - or if all this was all wasted. waste. waste. waste.

Two more minutes… and I’m already counting down the time to blissful sleep and reprieve. I don’t want to answer the difficult questions - consider hard possibilities.

I just want to barrel on to the end of this time - with the hope and belief that it matters. Perhaps in my self-discovery, someone else can discover something too and we can both discover something new - even if it isn’t any answer but just some nebulous, half-formed clue.

One more minute.

Trying not to waste even thirty seconds of closing the mind… but when the box is checked in - then I can already feel myself thankfully checking out.