Tag: goals

Too much

For the last couple of weeks, watching the world unfold has been an effort in trying to keep myself upright. I have been on the verge of collapse as Russian troops invaded Ukraine.

There have been countless days where I’ve sobbed uncontrollably as my heart shattered for people I will never meet. From places I’ll never get to visit. I’ve had this experience many times in my life. But for some reason, this hits me in the core.

It’s likely, of the last several decades, I’ve said that the sadness is just too much to take it all in hundreds of times. Today, I’m feeling those words in my marrow. for the last two solid years, I’ve been thinking it regularly, but saying it rarely. Today, I break that silence and acknowledge that my heart is sawdust for the people of Ukraine, and other sufferings that are equally unspeakable. My heart has been ground to fine powder for those sufferings.

It’s difficult to go on with daily life, when life has been uprooted and pulverized. By sickness, pain, loss, isolation, abuses, murders in broad daylight, shootings, all of the tragedies we’ve collectively experienced for TWO SOLID YEARS. Everyone on this earth is in pain, whether they know it or not.

Once upon a time, writing was my safe haven, my outlet, and my muse. Today it feel heavy and pointless. As though my words are meaningless. I have nothing to say that hasn’t been said by someone else, more eloquently, to a larger crowd. What do I have to add to the dialogue? To contribute to the narrative? Very little, in my estimation. However, staying silent does not allow me to feel whole, so I write today. Not for those that are “out there” suffering. But for the one “in here”.

It’s an odd feeling writing to a page about lasting happiness. It’s so elusive. Do I feel “happier” than I did many years ago when this page began? Without a doubt. I’ve grown so much, learned more things than I could ever recall, read a myriad of books, researched the research of happiness and put practice into my quest for more tangible joy in my everyday life. However, in that same breath, I find it impossible to be “happy” while so many people are in pain. It’s so hard to go on with our “regular lives”, whatever that even means now, while others have lost everything. To not acknowledge the struggle, would 1) be doing a disservice to those who are in pain, and 2) make me an asshole. I’m unwilling to allow either of those things. Not on my watch.

I have no rosy closing to this entry. I have nothing but love in the space my heart once was, for those that need love right now. I know I’m not alone in this feeling of hopelessness, and I genuinely hope that we all make it.

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2021, in retrospect

As yet another year closes, I feel compelled to write. I have had brief passing thoughts, but otherwise no desire to do much writing this year, much like last year. Everyone is going through their own experiences and quite simply, I have too. I haven’t felt as though my shaking voice was necessary in the larger conversation. Like virtually everyone else, I’m just trying to get through this period of time with my family, with the fewest scars possible.

Obviously we are all scarred these days. Nobody that has made it through these last two years has come out unscathed, unless you’re a billionaire with infinite resources. Then, you’ve made out pretty well. However, I don’t believe they haven’t also experienced tragedies in private. We often only see the curated versions of life and not the daily grind. The reality of the human experience is that some days you’re the mortar, and others, the pestle. Regardless, it is a grind.

Today, being the winter solstice, I felt compelled to not only write about the past, but also to look toward the future. Last night was the shortest day of the year and from here until summer, the days will lengthen and the darkness shorten. I feel like that is quite metaphorical. While we still have so far to go in the light/dark balancing act that is the seasonal changes, I’m encouraged that we will soon be letting more light in, after so much darkness.

What has been so crucial for me to remember, as someone who has had lifelong depression, anxiety, and Seasonal Effective Disorder (SAD), there is ALWAYS something to be grateful for. My family has been a constant reminder of this, even if they’ve also been a source of stress during these months of a whole lot of “togetherness” due to Covid. I wouldn’t want to be “stuck” with any other humans. Even at the most panicked and stressed times, I’ve turned my internal negativity toward gratitude. It has helped me appreciate the small wins, and allowed me the opportunity to get closer to my family. We’ve spent months having hard conversations so we can all grow and evolve into who we are becoming. It’s been quite apparent in all my household members, but also close friends. Despite the dumpster fires so commonplace in society, we are still growing and BECOMING. It’s a beautiful thing. I’m truly grateful for the chance to see those around me digging deep and working through the things that need to be worked through.

None of this is easy, even in the best of times. But during a pandemic of epic proportions, politically divided nations, shortages, wars, unimaginable losses, and more that we likely will never even know- there is always something to be grateful for. Even if it is just another sunrise, or making it through another trying day. Breathing, a smile, a furry friend, a song, anything. There have been many days where I’ve had to think REALLLLLLLY hard about what has gotten me through the day. But we have to find it. We have to. Some days, it’s the only thing we have to hold onto. And that’s ok. They can’t all be winners. Some days are there to teach us something: balance, humility, boundaries, patience, etc.

These things are not easy lessons and sometimes, they’re the hardest lessons of our lives. But in closing, I implore you, find the good in each day. Even if on the surface, it was the absolute worst. There is always something to appreciate and in those hard days, often a lesson. But also recognize that sometimes, the lesson isn’t ours, but we are the catalyst for change in someone else’s life. The other thing I ask of anyone reading this is to hold your loved ones close. Tomorrow is never promised. That has been a glaring lesson worldwide over the last two years. Hold your loves close. And Happy New Year

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Passion

I’ve recently watched a couple of shows on the ‘flix the inspired this entry. As any of my longtime readers can attest, I’ve been relatively consistent in writing, until a little over a year ago. There have been numerous times since the inception of this blog, however, as life tends to have other plans for me sometimes. I have not, though, ever gone through such a long steak without writing. It’s something I’ve always done with ease and general excitement. It has always been something I’ve wanted to earn a living at. There’s just something about the written word… anyway.

These two shows (one a dessert competition, and the other a beauty industry completion) demonstrate people with incredible passion and skill at their crafts. Their drive and tenacity are unparalleled. Their motivation to learn, grow, and hone their techniques and ranges are just marvelous. And because humans are very much selfish creatures, I watch this and circle back to myself at some point.

What is my passion? What can I not live without? What gets me amped up?

Throughout my life, even the things that have given me the greatest joys, have eventually become stale. Very few things keep my attention for long, let alone become something I’m passionate about. They become too cumbersome, too distracting, too much drama, too much work. They lose their shine, and I get bogged down. There have only been a couple things to genuinely keep me coming back (not without the afore mentioned periods of drag, of course), for years. One of them has always been writing.

However, lately, I’ve realized that I’ve lost my spark for even writing. I also realized that I no longer have anything I’d consider a “hobby”. There’s truly nothing that I’m currently passionate about enough to even want to entertain.

Covid has been wearing on me, more than I’d like to admit, I’m sure. But I’ve been isolated and busy for years before. I was chronically busy with a full time job and way beyond full time school. However, I’ve never felt this level of malaise before, especially toward writing. Even writing this right now, even with inspiration striking, this feels a bit like a chore. I know I’m not the only one. I didn’t learn a skill, like baking bread or a language during lockdowns. I worked full time throughout much of the last 1.5 years, and it’s been entirely from home. Plus I’ve been a full time parent, juggling distance learning with the kids, and a full time partner to boot. So I just have been feeling heavy.

If you add in racial injustice and the protests that has been spurring for more than a year now, stemming from the cities in which I live, plus unimaginable tragedy from all corners of the globe- wars, natural and unnatural disasters, climate change, isolation, deaths, and more. It’s just too much to take in. It’s no wonder I’ve lost whatever spark I once had, no wonder I feel like a zombie sometimes. It’s all been exhausting.

With the new, worse outlook with Covid, I don’t know… it all seems rather hopeless. It’s absolutely no wonder for me, and countless others, that discovering our passions during the pandemic of the century hasn’t been too of mind. It’s been barely more than an effort in survival for many of us. The thing that I HAVE discovered is that despite losing much of the vibrancy of life, much of the colors and textures that make life passion-filled, I’m not alone and someday it’ll get better. Regardless, I’ve also deepened my relationship with myself, with my family, and the kids. It’s not “my passion”, but it’s been a unique opportunity that I wouldn’t have otherwise had.

I have discovered a deep understanding and an even deeper love for those around me. My life.

This isn’t to say I’m not fearful about Covid and additional unrest in my area, and worldwide. Because those are very real feelings, with good reason. People have proven to suck, a whole bunch. But I also believe that individuals can and are the most resilient, dedicated, and truly inspiring creatures on earth.

Stay strong, friends.

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2020, in the rear view

As all of the readers of this blog know, I typically don’t allow *quite* this long go between posts. There’s often “inconsistency”, as anyone who’s read it, knows. But this long, is long. I’m sorry for my silence through the vast majority of this year. As we all recognize, 2020 has been nothing short of a train wreck. However, I’m un/fortunate to have only had a short time of unemployment. So, I’ve remained, largely, the same busy and distracted working parent you (all 3-4 of you) know and like.

Edit: 4/13/22- For reasons I can’t understand, the rest of this blog was lost? Removed? I don’t know. But it’s gone and surely something was said about keeping our heads up in uncertain times, or it’s only temporary. However, from the future in which I’ve come to, I can’t say things are so rosy. It’s a sad truth how I felt back then in 2020, and where I am now mentally in 2022, are simply miles apart. Sorry this wasn’t a better edit or update. Just keeping things transparent.

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Runaway

Please enjoy the musical stylings of A Flock of Seagulls.

https://youtu.be/iIpfWORQWhU

I share this timeless ditty with those of my readers whom are of a similar ilk. Those of you in love with new wave and the likes of you whom, as adults, dream of hitting the bricks more than you ever did as a youngster.

My day dreams consist of freeing myself of this ugly world, and traveling amongst the waves. My dreams at night are focused on simply change and making the surroundings different from what they currently are. Both are indicative of not just my wanderlust, of which I have to a ridiculous degree, but also my desire to just not live on this planet anymore. If I were equipped to be an astronaut, I’d be out of this world by now.

There is currently too much sadness for me to accept. There is too much injustice for me to know how to manage. There is too much apathy for me to stomach. There is too much heartbreak to fathom. I am truly unable to take it all in and I feel like I’m on the verge of a complete breakdown.

That breakdown would not have been completely, though largely, due to most recent events. But rather, years of compounded fear, lack, frustration, hopelessness, and need. The murder of George Floyd 10 minutes from where I currently call home is just the sadness cherry on a pile of trash.

Don’t get me wrong, however. I have been nothing if not genuine when I say that I have a beautiful life. I’ve been fortunate enough to do many of the things I’ve set out to do, from the mundane to the miraculous. I love my life. I’ve grown to truly appreciate and LOVE the life I’ve been given. Hardships and all. Yet, lately, more than I have in probably two decades, find myself wanting to check out. Not suicide, just feeling overwhelmed with sadness and without hope that things around us will get better. I’m so ashamed of my country and the state I live in, and honestly, the state I’m from too. They all suck right now, and I’m bordering on hating them.

I am ashamed that America is rife with injustices that I’ll never ever comprehend. I was born a white female, so I acknowledge my privilege outright in that. I was not born to wealthy parents or family. Quite the opposite actually. But my skin color has not negatively impacted they way I walk about this earth. I’m grateful, with a tinge of guilt. I didn’t choose this life or body. And I feel as though I’ve fought on the right side of justice in all things. I have always stood up for the right things. Injustices I see everywhere. I have fought for women, people of color, marriage equality, and animals in every moment of activism. Even in unconscious moments, like while buying things, I buy fair trade and organic because the earth and it’s inhabitants all DESERVE better.

But I’m still guilty of being a privileged white female American. And I hate it. And I’m also grateful that I’m able to speak to power on behalf of others. I am and I do whenever possible.

I’m just so damn sick of fighting and seeing no results. People are still slaughtering other sentient beings every day. Human and animals alike are fodder to the larger structures and systems, and I’m exhausted and angry. I don’t want to live on this planet anymore. It sucks. It sucks that I’m doing my best with what I have, and what I have is a shit sandwich. I feel like a bad mom for being angry and frustrated and hopeless. So what do I personally do when I feel like the world is crumbling (literally and figuratively)? I want to run away.

When I see there’s just no point in fighting any longer, I want to leave. I want to sell all my worldly possessions and emigrate to a deserted island somewhere warm and beautiful. I want to commune with the ocean and the sky. To feel the salty air on my skin and breeze on my face. I want to leave not out of desperation, as I did in my teens, but out of expanse and connection with something majestic. Something away from the bullshit of modern life. Something bigger.

Thanks for reading and feel free to share where you want to run away to, if you want to run at all, in the comments.

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