I love routine, but not too much. Not so much that my life becomes monotonous, but enough that I can breath for 5 seconds.
I’ve come a long way through situations I never thought I’d be in. Events that unfolded despite being everything I could be at a given time and circumstances that happened due to wrong timing, ill fate or general clumsiness. And by the way, I am incredibly clumsy. I wish it weren’t true, but I am the person who falls going up stairs and has more bruises appearing on a daily basis than the amount of mail I get in a year.
Anyway, back to the point I insufficiently made… Life has been challenging in it’s constant waves and sudden bursts. Procrastinating the anxiety filled tasks of said life, has in turn made life more utterly terrifying, and yet here I am, procrastinating.
There came a time when I lost all hope only to be turned into a blaze of fire that would scorch the pants of anyone who tried to be an inconsiderate buttocks (By scorch the pants, I really mean internally scream profanities and externally give a death glare, that possibly looked more like a frightened animal than an intimidating laser)
Turns out these challenges that draw us to our limits never really go away; they either keep biting us in the ass, until we’ve learned the exact reason they have presented themselves, again and again, in our exhausting spheres of muddled living. Or new obstacles fall into our overgrown paths, just when we think we’re in the clear.
Now, the problem isn’t the overgrown path, weeds have their beauty too. In fact, a wild garden with disheveled windy paths seem intriguing, and slightly less daunting than an overly manicured hedge with no sign of life, shadowing a heavily cemented area, with sign posts subconsciously probing you to go in a direction you’re not really sure about. An excursion through the fields sounds ever more inviting.
The road less traveled is full of shit too, but you can wipe it off without staring eyes. I don’t particularly want to follow a set path, I want to make my own way to somewhere, even if I get there with scrapes and bruises from briars and rocks that kiss my knees, okay?!
The point being that whatever path or non path you choose to take, it will never be perfect. You will have to fight to go on when failure beckons. You have to take new risks, dodge the bullshit and negotiate with the ever changing terrain.
The great thing about these tremendous downfalls (like standing in shit) or what at least seems like an unwanted disclosure of sensitive and painful vulnerability (standing in dog shit in the city, with no grass in sight to wipe it off), is that you have to pick yourself back up one way or another.
Reclaiming your power walk after many attempts at whining for someone else to fix the mess you’ve made. For the lack of opportunity greeting you as you rise from your restless sleep, yet you search endlessly for more. Then as you heave yourself up out of the pit you fell into, feeling like a brave warrior of a tragic event, you’re fighting for a life that’s mean something, in some way more than what you already know.
All of a sudden, you’re carefully pushing yourself to the point of invincibility, because you’ve already been embarrassed and hurt. All in and all out. Time to show this life what I’m made of. If nothing else, getting out of bed to begin living. That is an accomplishment in itself some days. *Enter my crying pyjamas as they feel abandoned.*
Maybe being vulnerable is seen as weak, but hiding below the surface is like looking at a picture of love, but not really feeling love. Vulnerabilities are not flaws, they are the things that make you feel raw and open. They connect us on a deeper level than “Hi, How are you?” “I’m fine”.
Despite giving a loud, but quiet, fuck you to the world in the form of I’m not perfect and maybe I do need tea and tenderness, we still seem to want validation that it’s okay to feel and show feeling. Maybe I do need to cry and then laugh hysterically.
Vulnerability gives us an understanding and empathy for not only ourselves but others too. The detailed rakings of the mind, under the surface and buried deep. These are the thoughts that connect us, the thoughts that help us reconfigure moments we could not understand before.
Maybe I have no clue how to trek the adultscape we’ve landed ourselves in. These standards and rules as to what an adult could or should be.
We must speak our opinions but not too loud, express ourselves but not too much, dress as a clone in the workplace, be the whole world and beyond in relationships. Love yourself, truly and deeply, but don’t end up a narcissist. Nourish your soul with the joys of life, but not too much that work becomes play. We must build people up and sometimes let people down.
We’re moving toward destinations that we might not like when we get there. We have to find a way to enjoy the journey. We’re risking everything to be more, to know more. So let’s make every hiccup count while the electric buzz of the unknown prevails. There is something we can do in each doubting moment.
Don’t stop fighting the good fight. Give people a reason to question. Don’t live in the shadows for fear of disapproving eyes, for fear of standing up in a crowded room. Don’t bury your light, even when it’s shining dim. There is something we can do on this uphill journey to make it worth the struggle.
We can hold space for ourselves. Whatever emotions come our way, we will choose to feel them. The battles we must face, we must face them honestly. When things go to shit, we have to recognize that it doesn’t mean we are shit. Acknowledge when you’re wrong, and make the next choice a positive one. Your actions can change your day. So don’t drag yourself down, raise yourself up. Take your ego and tell it to take a nap, it’s time to be real and raw.
Time to be authentic. Time to be humble.
Time to be you.