Yeah, blogging seems like a thing of the past... a relic from happier times when enough was going right in life that I felt like volunteering information. Doesn't really happen anymore, does it? A brief look to the left column of my page reads like a museum, listing links to friends' blogs that similarly haven't been updated in almost a decade, even for the most recent. Glad to know I'm in tired company.
But there's something about writing down thoughts that's extremely healthy. Even "bro-podcasts" like Rogan and Huberman have episodes about the mental health benefits of certain journaling protocols. I really want to be in the habit of writing. So, I have to begin again, even if I do it badly.
So much internal resistance, though. I even had to air-fry a couple pounds of tater-tots to persuade myself to sit for a few minutes and just type.
Am I the only one hanging on to life by the skin of their teeth? It doesn't matter the domain; my health, my finances, my happiness... it's all teetering on the edge of an abyss, and I have to spend all my resources each day to balance the contents and keep them away from what feels like an inevitable plummet. Is this adulthood? Is this what we all signed up for? I don't even have kids, yet every day usually feels like the last two miles on an empty tank, praying the fumes maintain your momentum before the next petrol station appears on the horizon.
How do people do it? How do they succeed rather than survive? Was there a step that I missed, or are those people perhaps not dealing with past traumas? What are you sneaky bastards that enjoy life doing that makes it seem like your flying with the Jetstream at your toned and cellulite-free asses?
And without children or significant relationship, what do people do to make their lives meaningful?
While I find answers, I'll go back to my daily tasks that seem a little like playing pretend, pantomiming the real version of what everyone else is doing.
No comments:
Post a Comment