Wednesday, July 8, 2015


I must power through this awful time of the day. It's actually a really beautiful time of the day. The clouds are comically puffy, the sun isn't beating down on me as much, and the mountains look like a painting by the late great Thomas Kinkade. Psych on the late great part -- well, at least the great part. Hey, he did what he did and he did it well. Paint some cottages and bridges and sell them in the mall. Okay! Okay. It's all okay.

This is around the time I should be driving home from my full-time adult job. Not adult as in I-work-at-a-strip-club adult (which I am NOT knocking), but adult as in I-can-handle-responsibility-and-pay-the-bills adult. But I am not returning home from my full-time job. I am returning home from the library, where I wandered around sleepily looking at sleepy books on various mental disorders and French philosophers. Then I walked home feeling like a piece of crap because I haven been too lazy today, too unproductive. Buuuut Meeeeg...

Today I have done the following: Went on a 2-hour walk and read Don Quixote, cleaned the basement for almost an hour, went grocery shopping, was nice to strangers at the grocery store, searched for jobs/A PURPOSE IN LIFE, ran 12 miles, said some sorta funny things on Twitter, vacuumed the house, took a shower, cried to a few Jenny Lewis songs, did the laundry, walked to the library, wrote in my goofy journal, read about capitalism, and then walked home in this beautiful weather feeling like a real loser.

The reason why I typed all of that out was to SHOW myself that I do do (do do! hilarious! do do!) a lot, that I do more than "enough," that I deserve to give myself a break every once in awhile. Just because I am not clocking in/clocking out doesn't mean that I don't put in hours attempting to improve myself mentally/physically/spiritually. Point is, I'm trying. I try so hard. I just started crying after I typed that last sentence. I really do try hard. And every night I go to sleep feeling like I'm not getting anywhere, that my whole life is on pause.

I don't really know what to tell myself. "Hang in there"? Does that work? Hang in there, kiddo! Things'll get better! It's all roses from here on out! Up and up! You got this! You can DO THIS.

Maybe. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I need to figure out what "this" is first -- and if "this" is all worth it. And what is "it"? And what if I could turn my brain off for one second? One golden minute? What if I could allow myself to see the painted peaks and see that it is enough, that I am enough?

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