Stuff

I notice lately how my desire to ‘work’ on things, on my ‘stuff’ has somewhat dwindled. A lot of the time I just can’t be arsed. I want a break. I want to integrate that life with a new life – one where I feel more present and part of the world. I think that’s happening, because when I do work on stuff – cartoons or journaling, or talking closely with a friend – I really love it and feel so grateful, it’s just the process of getting there and feels like it takes all my strength, yet there is a well within that I feel like I could access and throw all over the page or air or stream or river.

But maybe I just don’t want to right now, as much as I have been. This whole last year and a half, and a touch more, I’ve been sooo deep within and going so inside and its been incredible, but I now crave balance and comfort in the norm and the outside world. And it’s happening, slowly. I notice more things are coming my way, the desire to not be just sitting in my stuff, is fading. It’s also because I am struggling to find motivation, but it’s also because I think I do just need a break. And I think that feels quite healthy. It’s been a mega time of intensive looking, and I kinda feel like it’ll continue because I don’t feel ready to break it down just yet, but I feel like it might become a little less. I hope so. Provided the parts of me, and my feelings, don’t get forgotten.

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I feel an urge to support myself, during this new splurge of life and drive. I have a tendency to run on, regardless. And I do feel like I’ve been running from my feelings a bit – they just feel too intense. I’m scared of looking. I’m scared of going deep because I don’t feel resources to keep myself there. This desire to run, is out of fear but also enthusiasm. Fear that things’ll go shit again if I just stop to wonder or breathe or go deep. A fear that I’ll lose this splurge of ambition and the realising of my purpose. And enthusiasm because I’ve realised my purpose right now – to tell my story. I’ve known that for a while now but I feel like I really know it now. It’s a gap I’m wanting to fill, and I see ways that I can do it. And am doing it. And an enthusiasm to feel like I’m tapping into my potential, my drive, my success, my attributes, my qualities, my things that make me human. And that make me, me.

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I feel like my life is changing and I hope it continues to. Part of the change feels like with the ‘looking at my stuff’ and doing the work, and in other parts of my life, I feel like I seem to just do stuff a lot quicker than before. Like, journaling, I’ll have a release in twenty mins that I would have done in an hour before. I just don’t want to do things for as long – everything. My attention span feels like either its changing, or I’m just honouring it more…I think it’s that. I’m honouring it. I’m honouring who I am, rather than try to be something I’m not. I hope that keeps on coming, and I think it will. It’s scary though, because I just want to be someone else…but I’m enough and I’m fucking brilliant and noone else gets to be me. I wish I truly felt that though.

With the change, my worries deepen but the themes are still the same – that I’ll go crazy, that I’m fucked up, that I’ll become my mum…that I’ll end up bankrupt with no home and no job and not having gotten anywhere. Hmm. They sound might familiar to ANY OTHER WORRIES I HAVE HAD THE LAST YEAR. Make that the last two, three, maybe four.

Hmm. I think that goes to show, I can call these stories out and put them in the box labelled ‘UNTRUE’. And in the box labelled ‘Word’ I’ll pop in a note to let me know my life is mine and it is unfolding.

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